


Before those hands pulled me from the earth

by obfuscatedheart



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Behavior, Frottage, Hannibal is his usual self, M/M, Manipulation, Season/Series 01, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Will is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obfuscatedheart/pseuds/obfuscatedheart
Summary: A lie and truth are always emblazoned on your skin, your soulmate’s first absolute lie and truth they ever tell you
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 205
Collections: MHBB2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2020 Murder Husbands Big Bang. 
> 
> Art created by ArsTyrannus who created wonderful art that you can find here:   
> [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/ArsTyrannus/status/1354165422040485888?s=20)  
> I had an absolute blast working with them!

A lie and truth are always emblazoned on your skin, your soulmate’s first absolute lie and truth they ever tell you. Will has known this for as long as he has been able to read. At first it had been difficult to work out which one was the truth and which was the lie. He asked his father once, in a drunken stupor his father had said that everything was a lie anyway so it didn’t matter. Will read as much on the subject as possible. He found out that the lie was often slightly raised. He would trace over the words, the one that was slightly raised was the statement “I am”. He wonders what would warrant such an innocuous lie. Such a simple lie, but so powerful in its simplicity. The other is more interesting and Will considers what it could possibly mean.

Working as a homicide detective makes him wary of soulmates, too often he sees where these things go wrong. The violence that it produces in people, whether it’s people who stay together even when the marks don’t denote them as such. He thinks he is better off without one. Loneliness is easy to cover with dogs, their love at least is unconditional and uncomplicated, always honest.

The FBI further proves his point, even just when he was discussing cases in lectures. He saw the absolute worst of humanity and Will decides for himself that a soulmate was not worth it. When he had been at college he had relationships, but had often been discarded when the person found a soulmate, or when his empathy had made things difficult. Too easy to fall into someone’s head, and take up residence there, it was too noisy and they hated the feeling of him knowing what they were feeling. Casual sex was not an option either, he’d read them too easily, they’d broadcast emotions like an asynchrous sound check, every instrument vying to be the loudest thing in the room. 

Will is happy with his life, he can talk at his students and they listen to him. They soon learned that he was not one for office hours. He goes home to his dogs in the evening and works on boat motors.

***

Hannibal had grown up with two phrases on his wrist, in a language he did not recognise. He would spend hours tracing over the letters, trying to sound out the words. His mother had informed him that she thought the language was English. Wondering then how he would ever meet someone who spoke English, content in his life in their castle. Even when the winters became tougher and tougher. Hannibal had asked his mother whether he could learn the language, he spoke passing French and German as well as his native tongue, but his mother had a certain measure of contempt for both the English and Americans so he had left the subject. 

He couldn’t imagine a life where his sister Mischa wasn’t his soulmate, she was the light in his life and he would have killed for her. He had never considered that the absence of soulmarks on her would mean that she would never meet a soulmate because she would die before ever meeting them. 

When she died, Hannibal refused to acknowledge the two sentences on his arms. He thought that there was no way that he would ever be able to find someone again. Exacting his revenge had always been more important for him, until he had finished killing every single one of the filthy animals that had harmed her.

He carried her bracelet with him, tucked in his breast pocket to keep her close. Never again would he allow himself to love another that much. 

When he learns English during his studies, before he applies for John Hopkins, and understands the meaning of the words he had been carrying with him his entire life, he thinks that maybe there is hope for him yet. His soulmate is a killer like him. Delights in it, even. A kindred soul, which he supposes is the very nature of these soul marks, Hannibal is anxious to see what kind of person it would be, whether they wear their darkness proudly or whether they obfuscate it with platitudes and charm.

***

Jack approaching him for a consult doesn’t come as a surprise, the man had always asked him. But thus far he had been able to dissuade the man. But the case in Minnesota is different, bigger and more shocking. Young white women going missing to never be found again.

So he is sitting in Jack’s office, staring at the board with the girls. Dr Hannibal Lecter sat beside him, Jack had introduced him when Will had walked into the office, he had bristled at that. Somehow knowing that Jack doesn’t trust Will completely makes him feel angry.

“Tell me then, how many confessions?” Lecter’s voice is accented and pleasant to listen to. Everything he says sounds measured, as if he weighs each word individually before saying it.

“Twelve dozen last time I checked. None of them knew details. Until this morning. Then everyone knew details. Some genius in Duluth PD took a picture of Elise Nichols’ body with their phone and shared it with a few close friends. Freddie Lounds ran it on Tattlecrime.com.”

“Tasteless.” Will can’t help himself.

“Do you have trouble with taste?”

“My thoughts are often not tasty.”

“Nor mine.” Having Lecter’s focus aimed at him is intoxicating, it’s almost like Jack has disappeared from the room.

“I make forts.” He admits. 

“Associations come quickly.”

“So do forts.”

Lecter is studying him with almost imperceptible interest, before he says. “Not fond of eye contact, are you?”

There it is, not many people voice this to him before, instead trying to force it. He is studying Hannibal in turn though, trying to discern what kind of person he is.

“Eyes are distracting. You see too much. You don’t see enough. And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking those whites are really white or they must have hepatitis, or is that a burst vein? So I try to avoid eyes whenever possible.” He does let himself look briefly into Hannibal’s eyes, he is not surprised to see fascination there, something deeper too, that he can’t quite make out.

“I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.” 

Will is shocked, so few people have been able to understand him from such a brief interaction, it sets warning bells off in his head. Realisation dawns on him.

“Whose profile are you working on?” He’s angry, Lecter doesn’t so much as flinch nor look contrite, he turns to Jack, who is watching them with an odd look. “Whose profile is he working on?”

“I’m sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off.”

Will knows it’s true, at some point observing others becomes second nature, however he still doesn’t appreciate this intrusion. He is angry at Jack for railroading him.

As he stands he is speaking directly to Jack, “please don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.” He takes his bag and jacket and adds. “No if you’ll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalyzing.”

Will is almost sure he imagines the flash of a smile in Lecter’s face, he himself enjoys the irony of the situation. He can hear Jack’s talking to Dr Lecter as he makes his way further into the bowels of the FBI towards the lecture halls.

***

Hannibal watches Will’s retreating back for long moments before he realises that Jack is talking to him. Will is interesting to say the least, there is something to him that feels achingly familiar, that makes him feel like his teeth itch to bite down and hold on.

“Keep poking him like that and those Get Smart doors are going to come down faster than you can say ‘boo.’”

He turns to Jack who is speaking to him, “during intense conversations, does he adopt your cadence of speech?”

Jack considers that for a moment. “I thought it was a gimmick to get the back-and-forth going.”

He stands and approaches the board to look at the girls, an idea begins to form in his head, he wonders what Will will do.

“It’s involuntary. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried.” His eye catches on the photo of Elise Nichols’, he thinks he knows someone who could fit the bill. “What he has is pure empathy. And projection. He can assume your point of view, or mine. And maybe some other points of view that scare him.” That idea sends warmth through him, to be seen by another person, and especially with someone with such a keen mind as Will. “It’s an uncomfortable gift, Jack. Perception’s a tool that’s pointed at both ends.”

He looks at Jack Crawford, seeing the desperation he sees there, Jack doesn’t want his favorite tool broken. “This cannibal you have him getting to know, I think I can help good Will see his face.”

***

Hannibal is driving, not in his usual car, it’s beat up old car he had bought for cash for this exact purpose, one of many that he has stashed around Baltimore. He has turned up the music to drown out any possible screams and thumps from the trunk, he doesn’t really need it, the sedative he had given Cassie Boyle a sedative would mean she would not be waking up until he either gave her epinephrine or left her for several hours. 

At a gas station he fills up the car, pays in cash. No one here would be able to recognise, he doesn’t truly recognise himself in that moment. But experience has taught him not to take chances. When he returns to the car he turns the radio back on. Strauss plays over the speakers, distorted by the low-quality of the audio equipment. Hannibal decides that the next car must have better speakers.

Cassie Boyle had been a patient of his, stank of smoke whenever he had spoken to her, shockingly rude. But the reason he was driving her to Minnesota was that she was remarkably similar to the girls who had been taken by the killer in Minnesota. 

Before he reaches the field he had picked out he breaks into a near-by hunter’s cabin, he takes a stag head. The image of being gored by antlers will be a good anthethis to the image of Elise Nichols tucked into bed after the killer had tried to undo his work.

Hannibal almost wants to shake his head, some things can never be undone.

Stepping out of the car when he reaches the field he makes his way to a grassy verge that borders the field. He places the stag head on the floor. It is heavy enough so that it stands in that field. He arranges it just so, before returning to his car. Hannibal hefts Cassie out of the trunk and carries her to the field. Once there he gives her the antidote to the drug that is keeping her under, she jerks awake. Her eyes panicked and she opens her mouth to scream.

Hannibal shushes her, “no one will be able to hear you scream, so I suggest you don’t.”

Cassie is watching him but she doesn’t scream.

“What do you want from me?” She says as he picks out a scalpel from his bag. 

“Well I’m afraid Miss Boyle, you’ve been awfully rude. Don’t you remember?”

“I don’t understand.”

“That is a shame, but you should maybe think twice before you blow smoke into someone’s face.”

Cassie’s eyes widen with recognition and Hannibal smiles. “So innocuous a meeting, but you made yourself a target.”

Hannibal watches her as she struggles. “I suppose I ought to thank you though. After all you’ve given me the perfect excuse to make smoked lung.”

Cassie begins to cry and Hannibal goes to work.

He carves into her chest, stuffing her blouse into her mouth to stop her screaming. Once he has the ribcage exposed, he begins to crack the ribs until he can see the lung, her entire chest is quivering. Her heart is slowing though, Hannibal knows it won’t be long until it has beaten it’s last. He takes the scalpel and then begins to cut the organ away from the tissue that hold onto it so dearly. 

With a final pull he separates the organ from the body, the heart stutters and stops, blood spurting out. He is glad he is wearing the vinyl suit, as it will make cleanup easy. He places the lung in the cooler he had brought with him, once the organ is carefully packed he takes Cassie Boyle and impales her on the stag’s head. He knows that Will will be able to see immediately what makes the killer here tic.

Taking off the vinyl suit before placing it into a bag, he gets back into the car and drives. 

Hannibal makes it back to his house by the early hours of the morning. The lungs he places into the fridge and places the suit into the basement, ready to be cleaned. Hannibal showers and then gets into bed, falling into an easy sleep.

***

Will is already tired by the time they reach the field. The flight over was short but he hadn’t slept well the previous night, plagued by nightmares of Elise Nichols’ body. In the distance he can see the body, something already feels wrong.

He steps over the police tape, until he can see the body more clearly.

“I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“The head was reported stolen last night about a mile from here.” Jack says in answer.

“Just the head?” He watches as Beverly, Zeller and Price comb the area for evidence. Each time crows land on her body Beverly and Price shoo the birds away.

“Minneapolis homicide has already made a statement. They’re calling him the ‘Minnesota Shrike’.”

“Like the bird?” Will asks.

Price is the one that answers, “Shrike’s a perching bird. Impales mice and lizards on thorny branches and barbed wire. Rips their organs right out of their bodies. Puts them in a little birdie pantry and eats them later. At its leisure.”

Beverly shrugs and says, “sounds about right.”

Jack sighs and says, “Can’t tell if it’s sloppy or shrewd.”

Will tries to tell them that this killer is different to the one they are hunting. A petulant display that is so unlike the loving way the other killer had tucked Elise Nichols into bed. The man who had killed Elise Nichols didn’t want to have the bodies on display and he tells Jack that the killer they are looking for has a cabin to commit his murders.

Will looks back at the tableau.

“We’re already looking at Minnesota steamfitters and plumbers and people with hunting licenses.”

Will realises something then, “He has a daughter. Same age as the other girls. Same hair color, same eye color, same height, same weight. She’s an only child. She’s leaving home. He can’t stand the thought of losing her. She’s his golden ticket.”

“What about the copycat?”

“An intelligent psychopath, particularly a sadist, is hard to catch. There is no traceable motive. There’ll be no patterns. He may never kill like this again.”

He makes his way and steps back over the police tape. “Have Dr Lecter work up a psychological profile. You seem to be impressed with his opinion.”

***

Hannibal knocks on the motel room door, bag in hand. Will answers the door in just his sleep clothes, his hair messed up by sleep. He is struck with the urge to touch Will.

“Good morning, Will. May I come in?”

Will only stares him before he says, “where’s Crawford?”

“Deposed in court. The adventure will be yours and mine today.” When Will doesn’t move he adds, “may I come in?”

Will steps aside and lets him into the room. Hannibal begins plating the breakfast while Will goes into the bathroom, he returns wearing pyjama pants. He pours two cups of coffee and pushes it over to Will who takes a seat opposite him. 

“I’m very careful about what I put into my body. Which means I end up preparing most meals myself. A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs. Some sausage.”

Hannibal doesn’t take a bite until he watches Will take one. The man almost groans in delight.

“It’s delicious. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

He tries to hide a smile into the bite he takes, Will has no idea, what or rather who he is eating. He catches a glimpse of Will’s wrists, one has a very short statement on it and the other something a little longer.

Hannibal wants to ask after them but he knows already Will is fiercely private. 

“I would apologize for my analytical ambush but I know I will soon be apologizing again and you’ll tire of that eventually so I have to consider using apologies sparingly.”

“Just keep it professional.”

“Or we could socialize like adults, god forbid we become friendly.”

“I don’t find you that interesting.” Hannibal’s heart stops. His wrist burns, and he resist the urge to rub at his soulmark. He knows it is a lie, but he knows that Will is his. His perfect match, and Hannibal suddenly doesn’t know what to do with that information. He knows he has to continue with the conversation.

“You will.” He says instead of anything else that flashes in his mind. “Agent Crawford tells me you have a knack for the monsters.”

Will leans forward and the mark on Hannibal’s wrist flashes more heat at him.

“I don’t think the Shrike killed that girl in the field.”

Hannibal isn’t surprised, the scene had been carefully constructed, but he wants to know what exactly Will saw. “The devil is in the details. What didn’t your copy cat do to the girl in the field? What gave it away?”

“Everything.” Will almost says it with a laugh. “It’s like he had to show me a negative so I could see the positive. That crime scene was practically gift-wrapped.”

It was wrapped for Will to unpick and to know that Will saw it as that makes it even more obvious that he is indeed the right one for him. Hannibal briefly wonders what the lie he will tell Will could be.

“The mathematics of human behavior. All those ugly variables. Some bad math with this shrike fellow. Are you reconstructing his fantasies? What kind of problems does he have?”

“He has a few.”

Hannibal smiles and asks, “ever have any problems Will?”

“No.” 

“Of course you don’t. You and I are just alike. Problem free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about.” He pauses regarding the man in front of him. “I think Uncle Jack sees you as a fragile little teacup, the finest china used only for special guests.”

Will laughs, and Hannibal wants to find a way to bottle it up. “How do you see me?”

“The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by.” Will considers this and Hannibal adds, “finish your breakfast.”

***

Will bursts into the kitchen. Hobbs is standing in the kitchen, holding his daughter close. A knife to her neck. “Garret Jacob Hobbs? FBI.”

The man doesn’t do anything for what seems like a few heart beats. Then he slashes her throat and then Will is firing his gun. Blam. He hits Hobbs’ shoulder, but the man doesn’t drop. Will keeps firing his gun. Finally Hobbs falls to the floor. Will rushes to Abigail’s side, his hand grasping around his neck so that he can try to stop the bleeding. He can feel her life leave her between his fingers.

He looks around the room and his eyes land on Hobbs, the man is hissing something at him. “See? See?”

Will feels like he is shutting down.

Then Hannibal kneels down next to him, his hands wrap around Will’s. The touch burns through him, and it feels good. Between hearing Hobbs die and feeling Hannibal’s hand on his, it feels like a moment he wants to bottle up the moment to last forever. Hannibal gently pushes his hands out of the way, his grasp far surer than Will’s and Will lets go. He feels safe with Hannibal, knows that the man will be able to save her.

Then an ambulance crew arrives, they take orders from Hannibal and Will just watches, his gaze fixed on Abigail’s. Her eyes are glassy like she isn’t quite there. Once the ambulance crew is there Will has to get out of the room, has to get fresh air again. 

Watching as the ambulance departs with Abigail and Hannibal inside, heading it to the closest hospital. The scene is crowded with cops. The blood on his skin is beginning to get tacky as it dries and he wants to go to the motel and shower. He checks in with Jack who tells him to go. 

***

Hannibal knows that he may have acted impulsively but he can’t bring himself to regret it. He is sat in the chair next to Abigail’s hospital bed. A breathing tube is keeping her alive and the steady beep of the heart monitor reminds him of his days as a surgeon. He is still reeling from the knowledge that Will is his. 

He wants to do anything in his power to make Will his. Knowing that Will has undoubtedly enjoyed his kill, he knows that he has to gently steer Will in the right direction. Hannibal is also desperate to know what words emblazon his wrists. 

Hannibal still can’t get the feeling of Will’s hands on his. The touch had burned, but not unpleasantly, it was like stepping into a warm bath, comforting. It had felt right, and Hannibal knows he has to touch Will again, has to have his hands again on the man. 

Footsteps approach the room, he knows the exact cadence of the steps, and Hannibal stretches his hand out so that it barely brushes Abigail’s. He feigns sleep.

The footsteps stop next to the other chair in the room. Hannibal can smell Will, the mixture of dog, the horrible cologne and a scent that is uniquely Will’s. The man sits down in the chair and remains silent.

Hannibal decides he likes this, spending time with Will. 

***

Will is lecturing on Hobbs, clicking through the slides. He hates that the students had applauded him when he had entered the room. It doesn’t seem right for them to take such enjoyment out of it. Especially when he carries the enjoyment of those rounds deep in his bones. 

The slide with the resignation letter pops up. “This is how I caught Garret Jacob Hobbs. It’s his resignation letter. Anybody see the clue?”

A few hands go up into the air, he ignores them. “There isn’t one. He wrote a letter, left his phone number but no address. That’s it.”

He clicks onto the next slide, it is the bloody crime scene, Hobbs slumped dead in the corner. “Bad bookkeeping and dumb luck.”

Will walks in front of the slides and it feels like he is back in the kitchen. He can hear Abigail struggling for breath next to him. His hands around her neck trying to keep the pressure on the wound. Hobbs is looking at him and hisses at him through dying teeth. “See?”

He takes a deep breath and he is back in the lecture theatre, he clicks onto the next slide, a picture of Hobbs and Abigail in happier times, appears on the screen. 

“Garret Jacob Hobbs is dead. The question now is how to stop those his story is going to inspire.”

He looks at the picture before clicking onto a picture of Cassie Boyle. “He’s already got one admirer.” The slideshow finishes and the students begin to file out of the room and he sees Alana approach him.

Greeting her with a smile, she is a breath of fresh air after the almost indistinguishable sea of trainee students that fill the room.

She warns him that Jack is going to be ambushing him. Will sighs when he sees Jack walk into the room, dodging the trainees.

“Here’s Jack.”

“How was class?”

“They applauded, it was inappropriate.”

“Review board begs to differ. You’re up for a commendation and they okayed active return to the field.”

This surprises and scares Will in equal measure. He wants to return but he isn’t sure. Hobbs is still dancing around in his head.

“Question is, do you want to go back in the field?” Alana asks.

“I want you to go back in the field, but I told the Board I’m recommending a psych eval.”

Will glances at Alana who gives him an apologetic look. She lets him know that she isn’t going to be the one to evaluate him. Will doesn’t know whether he should feel glad that it isn’t the case. She has a soothing way about her but he also doesn’t want her to know the depths of how close he gets to killers. Jack tells him that he would be seeing Hannibal instead of Alana. This surprises him slightly as he would have assumed if Alana wasn’t the choice then he would be going to see an FBI psychiatrist. 

The other thing that surprises him is that the psych eval seems to be just to assuage Jack’s concerns. The man is not known for being the most concerned boss at times, something Will sometimes prefers; when he is left to his own devices. 

“How many times have you spent the night in Abigail Hobbs’ hospital room.”

At this point Will has lost count of the number of nights he has spent there, often with Hannibal at his side. They spend the time in silence, keeping vigil over her.

Jack doesn’t listen to him when Will tells him that due to his background therapy doesn’t work on him.

“Why not have a conversation with Hannibal. He was there. He knows what you went through.” Alana sounds like she is trying to find the best compromise. 

“I need my beauty sleep, Will.” Jack adds. Will bristles at the thought, but he nods his head slowly. 

He goes that evening. Alana had emailed him a time and the address for Hannibal’s office.

Will sits in the waiting room, looking at the art on the walk. 

A door opens and Will hears Hannibal’s voice. “Good evening. Please come in.”

Will wanders through the room, he climbs up the ladder to look at the shelves of books. Some appear to be first-editions and there is a vast shelf with the same black books with color-coded stickers on the spine. Will assumes that they are notes that Hannibal makes of his sessions with patients.

Hannibal is looking for something on his desk, then he looks up at Will.

“What’s that?”

“Your psychological evaluation. You’re totally functional and more less sane. Well done.”

“Did you just rubber stamp me?”

Hannibal looks pleased, “yes, Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn’t break you and our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork.”

He regards Hannibal for long moments. 

“Jack thinks I need therapy.”

“What you need is a way out of dark places when Jack sends you there.”

Will thinks he can live with something as simple as merely having conversations with Hannibal.

“Last time he sent me into a dark place I brought something back.”

“A surrogate daughter?”

For a moment Will wants to argue with that, but finds he can’t.

Hannibal continues, “you saved Abigail’s life. You also orphaned her. It comes with certain emotional obligations, regardless of empathy disorder.”

“You were there. You saved her life too. Do you feel obligated?”

“I feel a staggering amount of obligation. I feel responsibility. I’ve fantasized about scenarios where my actions may have allowed for a different fate for Abigail Hobbs.”

That makes Will feel better, like Hannibal and he share something unbreakable.

“Jack thinks Abigail might’ve helped her dad kill those girls.”

“How does that make you feel?”

Will almost wants to chuckle, so he throws the question back. “How does it make  _ you _ feel?”

“I find it vulgar.”

Relief floods him. “Me too.”

“And entirely possible.”

“It’s not what happened.”

“Jack will ask her when she wakes up or he’ll have one of us ask her.”

“Is this therapy or a support group?” Will finds he can’t keep his eyes off of Hannibal, even though usually he avoids eye contact like the plague. With Hannibal he doesn’t see an overwhelming amount of noise that so often makes other people exhausting to look at. 

“It’s whatever you need it to be. Will, the mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself and not the worst of someone else.”

That staggers Will a little, to hear someone make his ability seem like something positive and not something that can only be used to hunt out the worst of humankind. 

Hannibal seems to understand Will’s reluctance to discuss the subject in detail so he lets Will go early and he is grateful for the opportunity to escape.

When he reaches his home he is glad to fall into bed, with his dogs watching over him as they sleep.

***

He is in Hannibal’s office, he slides the psych eval back to the man. “This may have been premature.”

Hannibal shakes his head and pushes it back towards him. “They’ll revoke my rubber stamp.”

“Maybe they should.”

“What did you see? Out in the field?”

Will rubs at his temple. “Hobbs.”

“An association?”

“A hallucination. I saw him lying there, in someone else’s grave.”

“Did you tell Jack what you saw?”

“No.” This seems to please Hannibal.

“It’s stress. Not worth reporting. The mechanism that distinguishes conscious perceptions from internal perceptions misfired. You displaced the victim of another killer’s crime with what could arguably be considered your victim.”

“I don’t consider Hobbs my victim.”

“What do you consider him?”

“Dead.”

“Is it harder imagining the thrill somebody else feels killing now that you’ve done it yourself?”

“Yes.”

Hannibal leads the conversation to the case, and Will is grateful to have Hannibal as a sounding board. He is able to keep up with the way Will thinks and is able to provide additional insight to things. 

***

Hannibal serves Jack his plate. “Loin served with a Cumberland sauce of red fruits. strawberries , raspberries, currants.”

“What kind of loin?”

“Pork.” it is the lie that he tells often, even if he doesn’t truly regard it as a lie, those he serves are little more than swine.

Hannibal takes his seat at the table.

“It’s rare that I get a home-cooked meal. My wife and I both work. Hard as I tried not to, I married my mother.”

“Your mother didn’t cook?”

“She cooked. I just wished she didn’t. She used to make this dish she liked to call oriental noodles. Spaghetti, soy sauce, bouillon cubes and spam. I was a thin child.”

Hannibal winces internally at that, he had in the past eaten badly but now he prefers that everything he eats is a feast for the senses.

“Next time bring your wife. I’d love to have you both for dinner.” A joke that Hannibal repeats often, the humor more in the fact that no one knows what the joke is.

Jack eats and then washes the bite down with wine. His manners leave little to be desired. But Hannibal knows that Jack’s disappearance would cause waves that would be difficult to weather. 

“I’m curious why Will went back to see you after you signed off on him. He was so adamant about not going to begin with.”

“I lost the stick, kept the carrot.”

“Insisting on a psych eval for a guy like Will Graham is hardly a stick.”

Hannibal wants to stick his fork in the man’s hand but he resists. “As a psychiatric professional, I feel duty-bound to point out that blackmailing somebody into therapy tends to negate positive benefits.”

Jack takes another sip of his wine, savoring it.

“This wine is delicious.”

“Piorat from Catalonia.”

“Why did he go back?”

“A guy like Will? I’m sure he recognizes the necessity of his own support structure if he’s to go on supporting you in the field.”

“Will Graham knows exactly what’s going on in his head, which is why he doesn’t want anyone in there.”

“Are you not accustomed to broken ponies in our stable?”

“You think Will’s a broken pony?” 

“I think you think Will’s a broken pony. You ever lost a pony Jack?” He knows that will sting Jack, he is keeping Miriam after all.

“If you’re asking if I’ve ever lost someone in the field, yes. Why?”

“I want to understand why you’re so delicate with Will. Because you don’t trust him or because you’re afraid of losing another pony?”

“I’ve had my psych eval.”

“Not by me. You’ve already told me about your mother. Why stop there?” Hannibal knows that the more he learns on how to manipulate Jack the easier it will be to have Will for his own.

***

“When you shot Eldon Stammets, who was it that you saw?” Hannibal’s regards Will, the man seems calmer than when he saw him last.

“I didn’t see Hobbs.”

“Then it’s not Hobbs’ ghost that’s haunting you, is it? It’s the inevitability of there being a man so bad that killing him felt good.”

“Killing Hobbs felt just.”

“Which is why you’re here. To prove that sprig of zest you feel is from saving Abigail not killing her dad.”

“I didn’t feel a sprig of zest when I shot Eldon Stammets.”

“You didn’t kill Eldon Stammets.”

“I thought about killing him. I’m still not entirely sure that wasn’t my intention pulling the trigger.”

Will seems a little uncomfortable but Hannibal presses on, “if your intention was to kill him it’s because you understand why he did the things he did. It’s beautiful in it’s own way. Giving voice to the unmentionable.”

“I should have stuck to fixing boat motors in Louisiana.”

“A boat engine is a machine. A predictable problem, easy to solve. You fail, there's a paddle. Where was your paddle with Hobbs?”

“You’re supposed to be my paddle.”

“I am.” Will clutches at his right wrist, but he doesn’t seem aware that he’s done it, now Hannibal is intrigued about what is written on his wrist. “It wasn’t the act of killing Hobbs that got you down, was it? Did you really feel so bad because killing him felt so good?”

Will seems to weigh that statement for a long time before saying; “I liked killing Hobbs.” It sounds like a confession given in a booth to a silhouette behind a grate. Hannibal recognises the words immediately, and his left wrist is hot. He wants to rub at the words. 

Something that he had known since that breakfast in that motel room, is now his overriding thought. He wishes he knew whether Will knows it too, or if he denies it to himself too.

“Killing must feel good to God, too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in his image?”

“Depends who you ask.”

“God’s terrific. He dropped a church roof on 34 of his worshippers last Wednesday night in Texas, while they sang a hymn.”

“Did God feel good about that?”

“He felt powerful.”

Will considers this and then he looks at his wrist watch. “I think it is time for me to go home. I have to feed the dogs.”

“Of course. I will see you soon.”

“Thank you Hannibal.”

Will leaves through the patient exit and then Hannibal is alone. He pulls up his sleeve to look at the words on his left wrist. It looks slightly red, the same way the words on his right wrist had when he had Will tell his first lie. He knows the redness will fade with time. 

***

Will gets into his car, his heart is pounding. He pulls at his sleeve until he can see the words on his right wrist; “I am” looks slightly red. He rubs at them for a moment. He is confused as to what it means. He has never had a reaction like that before in his life. But he decides to ignore it for now. 

He starts the car and drives home. Letting the miles fly past until he can see his house. Once he reaches his little house he opens the door to let the dogs out into the front yard, they bound around him, happy to see him again. And he feels his mood lifting already. Winston stays by his side even as the other dogs explore the yard as though they haven’t ever been there before.

After 5 minutes he rallies his dogs and leads them back into the house. They follow him into the kitchen where he prepares their dinner. They know better than to crowd around him while he does so but they still jump around, occasionally nudging each other. Once he has put the food down he makes himself something quick. 

Will sits down at his kitchen table with his meal and a few fingers of whiskey. He wonders if he ought to look into soul marks further to understand what is happening.

***

Hannibal is led by Jack into the lecture hall where Will is teaching the bright young minds of trainees. He sees that his first kill in Minnesota is displayed there.

“Giving a lecture on Hobbs’ copycat?”

“Need every mind on this we can get.”

Will has seen Hannibal but doesn’t even stop in his lecturing. “This copy cat is an avid reader of Freddie Lounds and TattleCrime.com. He had intimate knowledge of Garret Jacob Hobbs’ murders. Motives, patterns. Enough to recreate them and arguably elevate them. To art.”

That makes Hannibal preen, it is so flattering to be seen so clearly by someone.

A picture of Abigail and her father flashes onto the screen.

“How intimately did he know Hobbs? Did he appreciate him from afar, or did he engage him? Did he ingratiate himself into Hobbs’ life? Did Hobbs know his coby cat as he knew him?”

Louise Hobbs’ body appears on screen, she is in the pool of her own blood.

“Before Garret Jacob Hobbs murdered his wife and attempted to do the same to his daughter, he received a call, re-routed through a swatting service.”

Garret Jacob Hobbs’ corpse in his kitchen appears on the slide. 

“I believe the as-yet unidentified caller was our copycat killer.”

Hannibal is impressed, Will has truly been able to see so much of him.

He can’t help saying, “brilliant” to Jack who seems inordinately pleased. Hannibal wishes he didn’t have to share this moment with Jack.

But he knows that when Will will finally see all of him, they will be alone. And Hannibal will make sure that by that point Will is so completely his that he will accept him fully.

***

Will is holding onto Abigail with Hannibal, helping her walk. She is as unsteady on her legs as a newborn fawn. Gently they deposit her on a bench.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you mother. We did everything we could, but she was already gone.”

Tears dance in her eyes, but nothing falls. “I know. I saw him kill her.”

“You saw it?” Hannibal asks.

“It was sort of like seeing it.”

“There was no vocabulary for your mind to articulate the violence.”

“Didn’t seem real. He was loving right up until the moment he wasn’t. He kept telling me he was sorry and to just hold still. He was going to make it all go away.”

Will can’t keep silent, “there was plenty wrong with you father, Abigail, but there’s nothing wrong with you. You said he was loving. I believe it. That’s what you brought out in him.”

“It’s not all I brought out in him.”

“Did he tell you about the young woman he murdered?” Hannibal asks.

Abigail falls silent and Will shoots Hannibal a look.

“You don’t have to answer that right now, if you don’t want to.”

“But we will have to ask you those questions eventually.”

“I’m going to be messed up, aren’t I?” I’m worried about the nightmares.”

“We’ll help you with the nightmares.” Hannibal sounds completely sincere.

“There’s no such thing as getting used to what you experienced. It bothers me a lot. I can only imagine how much it bothers you when I see it over and over in my mind.” Will pauses, “I worry about nightmares too.”

“Do you have nightmares about killing my dad?”

“Sometimes it’s hard to dream about much else.”

“Killing somebody, even if you have to do it, it feels that bad?”

“Ugliest thing in the world.” 

Hannibal watches him for a few moments, he knows that Will is telling Abigail a lie. But Will knows it’s what she has to hear at this moment in time.

Abigail is considering what he has said for long moments.

“I want to go home.” She sounds like a child in that moment and Will is reminded then that she may be an adult but she has lost both of her parents in these last few weeks. Parents that had been loving and kind until then.

They lead Abigail back to her room and then head back outside to go to the car.

Will recognises Freddie Lounds’ shockingly red hair. She is leant against Hannibal’s car, Will can feel Hannibal tense next to him. She jumps up when she spots them.

“Special Agent Graham, I never formally introduced myself.” she sticks out her hand to Will who ignores it. “I’m Freddie Lounds.”

Freddie Lounds is everything Will despises about tabloid journalism. Invasive and vicious in a way that means there is little regard left for the feelings or position of others.

She tries to offer soothing the sting of what she had said to Abigail but Will knows that it is a conditional offer on making sure that he feeds her information to boost her traffic. 

“I can undo what I said. I can also make it a lot worse.”

“Miss Lounds, it’s not very smart to piss off the guy who thinks about killing people for a living.”

Hannibal sighs next to him, but he also sounds amused at his choice of words.

They get into the car and Hannibal drives him back to Quantico to face Jack.

***

Hannibal and Alana return to the house. He can smell the blood in the house. 

“Abigail?” Alana calls out. Before they reach the kitchen Abigail appears, bloodied.

“Abigail.” Before Alana can say another word Hannibal palms her head from behind and slams her into the wall. She is unconscious immediately, and he gently lays her on the floor. 

Abigail looks stunned at his brutality.

“She’ll be alright.” Hannibal reassures. She considers him. “Show me what happened.”

Abigail leads him to the kitchen to Nick Boyle’s body. He has been disemboweled, it looks like she had followed instructions from her father when it came to dealing with hunting carcasses.

She doesn’t look like she is particularly broken or victimized by the situation. She is simply staring at the body, her face is inscrutable. He puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Abigail.”

She is looking at her bloodied hands, a strange look on her hands.

“He was going to kill me.”

“Was he? This isn’t self-defense, Abigail. You butchered him.”

“I didn’t..”

“They will see what you did and they will see you as an accessory to the crimes of your father.”

“I wasn’t.” Hannibal knows that it is a lie. But Hannibal lets her have this lie for now.

“I can help you, if you ask me to. At great risk to my career and my life. You have a choice. You can tell them you were defending yourself when you gutted this man, or we can hide the body.”

Abigail is looking at him, and Hannibal can see that her head is spinning. She nods her head and Hannibal nods back.

Together they bundle up the corpse and take it to the grounds of the house. They bury him there, in the forest. Abigail is silent the entire time, but Hannibal knows that she is starting to see him for what he really is.

***

Will sits opposite Hannibal, who is listening to him intently. He doesn’t look like he has been rattled much by the attack from Nicholas Boyle earlier that day. But he supposes that the man is used to traumatic situations.

“Sometimes at night, I leave the lights on in my little house and walk across the flat fields. When I look back from the distance, the house is like a boat at sea. It’s really the only time I feel safe.”

“Far from shores that would breach the hull structure of your mind. What dark waters would they let in?”

Will feels heavy. “My mind has already been breached.”

“You view your mentality as grotesque but useful.”

“Like a chair made of antlers.”

“You stood in the breathing silence of Garret Jacob Hobbs’ home. The very spaces he moved through. Tell me, Will, did they speak to you?”

“With noise and clarity.”

“You could sense his madness. Like a bloodhound sniffs a shirt.”

Hannibal is able to draw so many confessions out of him that he doesn’t know how he manages it. Letting him know that he feels guilt for Marissa’s death, because it had felt like he had been the one who had impaled her. That Hobbs is still occupying his mind in a way no other killer has done. 

“Like you were becoming him.”

“I know who I am. I’m not Garret Jacob Hobbs, Dr Lecter.” He pauses, he feels like something is weighing on him. “But I don’t think I should see Abigail anymore. Not for a while.”

***

Will had given him a key so Hannibal uses it to enter the house. The dogs surround him almost immediately. But they are well-behaved so don’t try and jump up at him. Hannibal takes out the bag he had brought with him taking out the links of sausage he had made he lets them drop. The dogs’ reaction is immediate; crowding round the food to snap at the links and then with their bites scurry to their beds.

He looks around the room with interest. The bookshelves are cluttered, heavy with a variety of different books. One he slides out to reveal a text on fly fishing. He knew that Will is a keen fisher and he wonders whether he would ever be persuaded to provide dinner for him. It is curious then that Will has a bed in the living room. Wondering if the rest of the house is therefore almost unused. There is a piano in one corner and he lifts the lid and strikes one of the keys. The discordant sound of an untuned instrument rings out and Hannibal considers for a moment whether he should have someone come to retune it. He thinks that it might be a little too early in their relationship to suggest something like that. Hannibal wonders what sort of music he would play when he has the time.

In front of the bed is a sheet with the pieces of a boat motor that is in the state of being disassembled and fixed. He can picture Will surrounded by his dogs working on it, probably is soothing to that wonderful mind of his. 

The chest of drawers draws his focus next. He slides out one drawer, inside he finds neatly folded t-shirts. It is not what he expected somehow he had assumed that his house would be as disorganized because his mind finds associations so quickly. It makes sense that Will would try to keep things as compartmentalized in his life as possible. He shuts the drawer and turns to the desk. There he finds fly tying gear. There is a rack of completed flies. In the center of the table is a vice where a half-completed fly is clamped between them. A magnifying glass there to help and Hannibal takes a seat. He adds a tuft of the red feathers Will obviously has been using and holds it against the fly to wind the bobbin around to secure it. Once the feather is secured tightly he undoes the clamp and inspects the object. The hook beneath the feathers is so sharp that it glints in the light. Hannibal presses the pad of his thumb against the hook and watches as it pierces his skin. A drop of blood beads up and Hannibal sucks at his thumb until it is gone. 

Later he is back at his office. Will had let him know that he would be unable to attend his appointment as he is on a case. So when his buzzer sounds he is a little surprised.

He opens the door and is a little surprised to find Alana on the other side of the door. 

“Hi.” She smiles at him.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Do you have a beer?” 

He smiles and opens the door for her and fetches a beer for her and a wine for himself.

She clinks her bottle against his glass and for a moment he can see the flash of text on her wrist. He tilts his head slightly to see.

His words are always obscured by his sleeves. She catches him looking and turns her wrist for Hannibal to read: ‘this can be your entrance’, there is a flirtatious note to the words that is undeniable. He wonders briefly if it is ever that simple.

“Is that the lie?” He asks her, curious to know if she knows.

“I don’t think so.”

He only hums in thought. 

“Can I see yours?” He dreads the question every time it comes. So he shows her the lie, it is innocuous enough.

Alana almost lifts her hand as if to trace her fingers over the words but he shrugs the sleeve back over them. “Quite clearly a lie. I doubt there is a single person alive who wouldn’t find you interesting.”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“It looks a little raw Hannibal.” She gives him a knowing look. “Have you found yours?”

“A man must keep some secrets.”

Alana looks deep in thought, she is an extraordinary woman and he knows if he hadn’t met Will then there is a possibility that Alana would be an amusing dalliance for a while. She had certainly seemed interested enough in him.

“But that isn’t what you came here for; pontification on the meaning of soulmates.”

“You’re right of course. I spoke with Abigail today.”

“How was she?”

“Everything is on course but I think she may be wrestling with a low-grade depression.”

She takes a large swig of her beer and Hannibal gives her a look.

Alana chuckles bright and clear. “Nothing wrong with a little self-medication, right, Doctor?”

***

“Tell me about your mother.” 

Will chuckles. “That’s some lazy psychiatry, Dr Lecter. Low hanging fruit.”

“I suspect that fruit is on a high branch, very difficult to reach.”

“So’s my mother. I never knew her.”

“An interesting place to start. Tell me about your father then.”

“I spent more time doing his job for him than he ever did.” Will leans forward slightly. “Tell me about your parents. Let’s start there. Quid pro quo.”

He can see that Hannibal enjoys his use of latin.

“Both my parents died when I was very young.The proverbial orphan until I was adopted by my Uncle Robertas.”

Will thinks he understands Hannibal a little better then. A man who had to spend the best part of his youth looking after himself. “You have orphan in common with Abigail.”

“I think you’ll discover you and I have a great deal in common with Abigail. She’s already demonstrated an aptitude for the psychological.” He regards Will for a moment before continuing. “Quid pro quo.”

He ignores the attempt at a volley to say, “there’s something so foreign about family. Like an ill-fitting suit. Never connected to the concept.”

“You created a family for yourself.”

“I created a pack of strays. Thanks for feeding them while I was away.” Hannibal nods his head as if to say ‘you’re welcome’.

“I was referring to Abigail Hobbs.”

Will lets the thought sit with him. Hannibal is unperturbed. “Were your parents soulmates?”

Will laughs, “not by the end. At least not the way my father spoke about my mother. Besides what kind of person leaves their soulmate?”

“There can be a multitude of reasons. I see them sometimes in my practice.”

“Then you should be wary of soulmates?”

“Why? There is enough evidence that people live longer when they stay with their soulmates. After all, why would you not spend your life with the person who is your perfect match?”

“My father always said it didn’t matter, even if they are your soulmate then everything anyone ever says is a lie, and one truth does not negate that.” He scrubs at his beard. “As a cop and teaching in the FBI has taught me that soulmates are not worth the hassle.”

“I see your mind's made up. But then it is easier to think that way when you don’t know your soulmate.”

“You have a soulmate.” that concept seems wrong in his head. That Hannibal has a partner that he doesn’t know anything about.

“I will know them when I meet them.”

Will sighs. It is difficult to try and contain what he is feeling but he swallows it down like he does so much in his life.

“Tell me about the Turner Family. Were they affluent? Well to do?”

Will is grateful for the distraction. “They lived like they had money.”

“Did your family have money, Will?”

“We were poor. I followed my father from the boat yards in Biloxi and Greenville to lake boats on Erie. I did my father’s job about half the time, he was too drunk to do it himself.”

“Always the new boy at school? Always the stranger?”

“Yes. With an empathy disorder too boot. It wasn’t easy growing up as me.”

“And yet you’ve done an admirable job all things considered. It isn’t easy to dig oneself out from the depths of everything.”

“Speaking from experience?” And it does sound like Hannibal knows what he is talking about.

“There is nothing quite like the hunger that never quite leaves you.”

“You managed it. I’ve heard about your feasts.” Will chuckles. “While I indulge in all the foods I always wanted as a kid and could never have. A box meal is a luxury.”

Hannibal looks a little scandalised at that. “You could always join me for dinner. I could teach you all about good food.”

“Is that wise? We are therapist and patient.”

“I’m not your therapist as we’re just having conversations.”

Will smiles and Hannibal smiles back. “Maybe some other time.”

Hannibal inclines his head and Will feels somehow relieved at not being forced into interaction.

***

Hannibal watches Will swallow three aspirin pills and then chase them with water. 

“It’s hard to lie still and fear going to sleep when it’s there to think about. You listen to your breathing in the dark and the tiny clicks of your blinking eyes.”

“I dream more than I used to.” Will doesn’t sit in his usual seat and instead he paces the room as if trying to avoid being the patient.

“Your dreams were the one place you could be physically safe relinquishing control. Not anymore.”

“I thought about zipping myself into a sleeping bag before I go to sleep, but it sounds too much like a poor man’s straight jacket.”

Something seems to catch his eye and he crosses the office. When he stops in front of the stag statue he observes it.

“Have you determined how this Angel Maker is choosing his victims?”

“He doesn’t see people how everyone else sees them. He can tell if you’re naughty or nice. Or he thinks he can.”

“God has given this Angel Maker insight into the souls of man?”

Will seems to consider this for long moments and they discuss the intricacies of the brain as an organ that is so unknown and yet is able to so completely transform someone. Will is still studying the statue and Hannibal crosses the office to watch Will more closely. Although he hasn’t known Will for long it seems obvious that something is affecting Will enough that he has told Hannibal about the change in dreams.

“I’ve been trying to reconstruct his thinking, find his patterns.”

“Instead you find yourself in a behavior pattern you can’t break. You realize you have a choice.”

“What is it?”

“The Angel Maker will be destroyed by what’s happening inside his head. You don’t have to be.”

Hannibal approaches Will until his is almost within touching distance. He allows himself something that he has wanted to do for the longest time. He inhales deeply. There beneath the scent of Will, aftershave and dogs is a fevered sweetness. Like fruit that is being heated to make marmalade.

“Did you just smell me?”

He had hoped that Will would not notice but he obfuscates by mentioning the aftershave that Will wears. He asks Will whether his headaches have increased in both strength and frequency, when Will answers in the affirmative Hannibal is almost certain of his diagnosis. It can only be a few things.

There is a part of him that wants to tell Will, get him to a doctor and have a MRI to make the diagnosis official. However Hannibal also wants to see how much Will will bend before he snaps. Especially if his suspicion comes true that he is not Will’s soulmate as he has shown little to no reaction to any lies he has told Will.

***

Will doesn’t know why after kissing Alana he is driving into Baltimore to see Hannibal. Something about the kiss had seemed right until it happened. Alana is beautiful and if he were a better man then maybe they could work. Even if Will is sure that she isn’t his and he isn’t hers. But Will could tell that she was kissing him out of pity and he knows he would lose himself in that pity.

So he’s shucking himself off his coat in Hannibal’s entryway. Hannibal opens the door and looks a little shocked that Will is there. 

“I kissed Alana Bloom.”

Hannibal seems to be taking that in and then opens the door for Will, “come in.”

He is led into the dining room, he is surprised that there are two places filled. Both are half eaten.

Will feels a little ashamed, “did you have a guest?”

“A colleague. You just missed him.” Hannibal approaches the open window and closes it.

He picks up the plates and Will follows Hannibal into the kitchen. The kitchen feels more familiar to Will because he has been here before. “Didn’t finish his dinner.”

“An urgent call of some sort. Had to leave suddenly. This benefits you because I have dessert for two.”

Will watches Hannibal as he gets a dish out of the oven. There are two ramekins that appear to be overflowing with some sort of bread pudding. Will watches as Hannibal plates the ramekins.

“Tell me, what was Alana’s reaction?”

He tells her what Alana had said to him after the kiss and Hannibal adds his own observation.

“Wondering then why you kissed her and felt compelled to drive an hour in the snow to tell me about it.”

And that is what Will was afraid of, he doesn’t know why he had felt that need to talk to Hannibal but a part of him that he always feels like he knows himself best when he is talking to Hannibal.

Will tries to explain the reason for the kiss including the fact that he thought he had heard an animal stuck in his chimney and she had appeared at his house. That the real reason that he kissed her was that he felt unstable with the increasing headaches and sleepwalking.

“That’s why you kissed her. A clutch for balance.”

“Because I’m losing mine.”

“You said yourself what you do is not good for you.”

“Unfortunately, I’m good for it.”

“Are you still hearing this killer’s serenade behind your eyes?”

Will nods as he accepts the plate given to him. “It’s our song.”

If he didn’t know any better he would think that Hannibal looks a little put out by that.

Hannibal moves to start tidying and he seems to be hesitating around something until finally he tells Will that his patient has a friend who his patient suspects of being involved with this most recent murder.

“What did he say about his friend?”

“He owns a music store in Baltimore, specializing in string instruments. Perhaps you should interview him.”

Will nods slowly and then tucks into the dessert in front of him. Hannibal had been in no hurry to lead him into the dining room. Perhaps he knows that Will wouldn’t feel comfortable in that room yet. 

***

Hannibal is trying to tell Franklyn that he is being referred, or at least believes that he will. The man is desperate for Hannibal to keep him as a patient but he has lost patience for Franklyn. He is a terrible mixture of boring and pathetic. And he thinks that he can swim with sharks.

“You lost respect for me because I wouldn’t report Tobias, didn’t you?”

“Report me for what?” Hannibal looks up at Tobias who is standing in the doorway. He can’t quite identify what he’s feeling. He had sent Will to Tobias as a test, once that he isn’t sure that Will has passed based on his absence.

Although is glad to see the trickle of blood from Tobias’ ear, maybe Will is okay and he had just let Tobias flee to secure the music shop.

“Tobias?” Franklyn sounds so confused.

“I came to say goodbye, Franklyn.”

“What do you mean goodbye? Oh My God. Is that your blood?”

“I just killed two men. The FBI came to question me about the murder.”

In that moment something in Hannibal breaks it seems that Will is dead. Before he had any chance of seeing how his connection to Will would develop.

He tunes our Franklyn trying to calm Tobias until he has had enough. He steps behind Franklyn and wrenches his neck until it breaks with a crack. Franklyn drops to the ground like a sack.

“I was looking forward to that.” 

“I know.”

Tobias is squaring up to him. His coat draped over his arm until he discards it and he is holding a garotte. It’s been made out of a piano wire with handles. Hannibal wonders abstractly as Tobias swings it through the air if he strangled Will using it.

The wire swings towards his face and Hannibal throws up an arm to stop it from wrapping around his neck. Instead it wraps around his arm and Tobias pulls. The wire tightens around his arm and begins to cut through the material of his suit. Hannibal is thankful that the suit is so well made that it saves his arm from a deep laceration.

They spin through the room and Tobias picks up one of his side tables and smashes it over his arms. They are still almost intertwined because of the wire and Hannibal headbutts Tobias to get the man off of him. Finally Tobias lets go of the wire and stumbles towards Hannibal’s desk. He picks up the letter opener and Hannibal charges at him until he lands on top of Tobias on the desk. They wrestle, both trying to get the upper hand when Tobias slams the letter opener into Hannibal’s thigh. The pain only enrages him and he grabs his fountain pen and it stabs it into the man’s arm, causing him to drop the letter opener to the floor. 

He gets his feet underneath him and staggers away from Tobias who follows him, swinging his arms. Hannibal is almost surprised at how closely Tobias and he are matched in strength. They both land punches that would incapacitate ordinary men. 

Hannibal lets himself be backed into the ladder by Tobias and when Tobias swings for his head; Hannibal ducks out of the way and Tobias arm is through the rungs of the ladder. Hannibal takes the arm and bends it against the sides of the ladder until he hears the crunch of breaking bones. Now at least Tobias’ dominant hand is weak and almost out of action.

The man screams and with his left arm he tries swinging at Hannibal who dodges them easily. Hannibal jabs at Tobias’ throat, damaging the windpipe. Hannibal catches his breath as Tobias is gasping for his. 

He takes out his pocket square and approaches the stag statue, using the silk material to lift it up he holds it over Tobias’ head and lets it come crashing down. The man falls to the floor dead, the statue lying next to him. Hannibal surveys the room and knocks over the pedestal for the statue. 

The room looks like there has been a fight, and he is glad that there is little he will have to do to make it look convincing. Hannibal picks up the phone and dials Jack’s number.

***

Will is almost anxious to see Hannibal, not entirely sure whether Hannibal is at death’s door. Tobias Budge had completely overwhelmed Will and the two police officers he had taken with him. He can feel the way his hands are still bleeding even in spite of the bandages that have been hastily around his hands. He follows Jack into the room. At first glance the room looks exactly the same, except that it is filled with CSI agents and police. At the far wall Will sees the toppled over pedestal and the fallen stag. There beneath it is a body bag, a larger bag is lying between the chairs. At his desk is Hannibal. Relief floods Will like a powerful wave that almost staggers him. For a moment Will wants to shout that he is not being looked after an EMT but apart from a split lip, a cut on his forehead and looking slightly disheveled he seems fine 

He drinks in the sight of Hannibal greedily, noticing the bandage around his leg. When Hannibal looks at him he looks just as relieved as Will feels. It is so immeasurably fond that Will doesn’t know what to feel about it. He approaches Hannibal who looks at him. 

“Mr. Budge said he was questioned by the FBI and he murdered two men. I was worried you were dead.”

Will almost wants to laugh as he shows his wounded hands. “You had reason to worry.”

Jack questions Hannibal about what had happened and Will and Hannibal tell Jack that Franklyn had been worried that his friend was a murder. That Will had used the information to investigate Tobias in his music shop. Jack seems satisfied with the information and approaches the team to ask for more details on the crime scene. 

Will is looking at Hannibal with his bleeding forehead and he takes a piece of gauze from the med kit and dabs at the blood there.

Hannibal is looking at him with such a strange look in his eyes, like he can’t quite believe what is happening.

“I feel like I’ve dragged you into my world.”

“I got here on my own.” Will’s arm wrist burns but he ignores it. “But I appreciate the company.”

“Let me drive you home.”

“You’ve been injured.”

“And you’ve suffered blows to the head. Even as a former doctor you must admit that you shouldn’t be driving.”

Hannibal only sighs but he doesn’t say anything further. Will rubs at his wrist and approaches Jack and asks if he can take Hannibal home. Jack just waves him off, content it seems with the end of the killer at Hannibal’s hands in self-Defense.

Will takes Hannibal to the car, something is giving him pause. He can still feel the residual burn of his wrist but he chooses to ignore it for the time being. More focussed on making sure that Hannibal is safe.

Hannibal grimaces as he gets into the car and Will has to stop himself from reaching over to help him. Once they are both buckled Will puts the car into drive and heads towards Hannibal’s house.

The drive mercifully is quick and they are pulling into the driveway before Will is even completely sure what had happened. 

Hannibal lets him into the house and leads Will to what appears to be a study. “You look like you could use some time to think.”

“You’ll be okay?”

“I’ll take a shower and then we can talk.” Hannibal turns to leave. “Do you need a drink?”

“I think I’ll be okay.”

Hannibal only nods in answer and then he is gone from the room. As soon as he hears the door fall shut he looks at his wrist. The words ‘I got here on my own’ feel hot to the touch when he ghosts fingers over it. His mark still feels sore and he doesn’t know what it means.

_ “How will I know?” Will asks his father. His dad is sprawled out on their couch. Alcohol has made him just numb enough to answer things truthfully. _

_ “It’ll burn like hell. Because believe me boy, meeting your soulmate will change everything about your life. So when they say those words your soul has to let you know. Don’t ask me why it’s pain?” His dad is slurring his words, but for once he doesn’t sound angry when discussing soulmates. _

_ “So the mark will hurt?” _

_ “It will. Will, it will burn like you’ve just put your hand in fire. Because it’s like your soul is trying to reach out of you and touch them.” _

The strength of the memory shocks Will as does the realisation of the burning he had felt in Hannibal’s office. 

Hannibal could be his soulmate. And he has told him the truth, that he got to the scene in his office by himself. Will isn’t quite sure what it means, maybe it’s because of his link to Franklyn.

Will’s heart is hammering in his chest as he looks at his other wrist. He thumbs over the raised lines of the words ‘I am’. He tries to rack his brains when Hannibal had ever said those words.

He tries to remember if he ever felt that pain before on his arm, the way it had burnt sharp and then felt sore for hours after.

His heart stutters when he remembers; he had asked Hannibal if he was his paddle and Hannibal had said those words: “I am.” 

Will doesn’t know what to think or feel. He is confused by why Hannibal would lie about that, is he trying to do something to Will? But there is also hurt, because Hannibal is one of the few people he trusts. And if Hannibal isn’t his paddle Will is sure that he will lose himself in his job.

He feels restless with a sort of quiet confused rage. Will knows he has to confront Hannibal about it, because he doesn’t want this hurt to fester and break his heart. He doesn’t want to be like his father, so hurt by his soulmate that he can’t function.

He stands and leaves the study. He can hear the shower running and he heads towards the sound. Climbing the stairs with a single-minded focus. He needs to talk to Hannibal, the same way he always does when he doesn’t know what to think. 

The shower turns off when Will reaches the hallway, there are a few doors that he could open. But the one that draws his eye is one with a samurai armor guarding the door. With a thudding heart he opens the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal walks out of the bathroom and into his room, intent on pulling on something and then talking to Will. The man had seemed confused on the way to his house and like there was something that was on his mind that he didn’t know how to explore yet. Hannibal had to wonder if Will was beginning to see him truly.

What he is surprised to find in the doorway of his room with rage and hurt blazing in his eyes. It makes him look transcendental and Hannibal commits the image to his memory palace, wanting to sketch him covered in blood. Hannibal is sure that it would make him look beautiful.

“Something the matter?”

“I have some questions.”

“May I get dressed first?”

Will makes an aborted sort of nod as though he had just realised that Hannibal was naked save for the towel around his waist.

“I’ll hurry then.” Hannibal goes into his closet and pulls on a sweater, underwear and a pair of slacks. He considers whether he should take one of the scalpels that are hidden there. It would be a shame to kill his soulmate after he has only just found him. But his life and freedom are sacramount. 

When he returns to his bedroom Will is pacing through the room but he stops when he sees Hannibal. He looks devastated, it is fascinating to see Will’s mind working. If only he could get inside that head of his to see the inner workings.

“You said you are my paddle.” There is a strange note of panic in his voice.

“I did.”

Will pulls up the sleeve of his right arm and shoves it under Hannibal’s nose. He can see the words ‘I am’ emblazoned there. It is raised as only a lie can be. Hannibal is a little surprised the lie had been so innocuous but then he had been surprisingly honest with Will. Of course there are many lies of omission. 

“So tell me Hannibal. Why did you lie? Because I know now it was a lie.”

“You’re my soulmate.”

Will inhales heavily and the look he gives Hannibal is so filled with longing and hurt that it strikes Hannibal suddenly. It’s something he hadn’t even said aloud to another person. Will is his, and he is Will’s and no one will ever be able to tear them apart.

“How did you know it was a lie?”

Will chuckles and then shows his other arm. His own words from about an hour ago. ‘I got here on my own’. Hannibal is once again surprised at that statement. But he supposes in that moment he had been so relieved to see Will alive that his filter must have been less than functional.

“So then you knew.”

“It took me a minute. I remembered asking dad how I would know, and he had told me that it would hurt. When you had said that it had felt like it burned.”

“It felt the same for me.”

“How long have you known?” Will is searching his face hungrily for something.

“Since that morning in your motel room.”

“That long?” 

Hannibal pulls up his right sleeve to show him the lie. When Will sees it he laughs. 

“I should have known that would come back to bite me in the ass.” Will begins pacing again and Hannibal watches him greedily. He isn’t sure what will happen now, and he is a little afraid. “But why did you lie about being my paddle?”

Hannibal sighs, he has to find a way to make his manipulation seem lighter than it was. “I don’t think you need a paddle. You wanted to believe you did, so I wanted to let you hear what you needed.”

“Hannibal, I need you to be my paddle.” The thrill of hearing Will say his name is undeniable. “If I don’t have you, I don’t have anything.”

“But you have me. And a paddle is not what you need. I can be there for you, but you’re stronger than you know.”

Will makes a wounded noise and then he is approaching Hannibal. Hannibal remains rooted to the spot, cursing himself for not taking one of the scalpels from his closet. 

It seems though that Will is unpredictable because instead of attacking him, Will is pulling him close by the sweater and kissing him.

Hannibal doesn’t respond at first but Will’s lips on his are insistent and Hannibal would hate himself for not being able to get even a taste of Will before something else happens. Will draws back but the hand clenched in his sweater doesn’t let go. 

“Right.” Will says after a moment, his eyes seem glued to Hannibal’s lips. “It’s true what they say. It feels better.”

“What feels better?” Hannibal asks, he sounds more breathless than he had expected.

“Kissing.” Will smiles and then he is kissing Hannibal again. Hannibal wraps one arm around Will and pulls him closer to him. The other hand he uses to grab hold of Will’s hair and pulls lightly. Will moans against his lips. Hannibal wants to commit this moment completely but Will is surprisingly distracting.

A knee insinuates itself between Hannibal’s legs and although Hannibal is sorely tempted to drag the tempting man in his arms to bed he knows that their relationship is still too fragile for this. 

Reluctantly Hannibal draws back until he is standing a little ways apart from Will. “We shouldn’t.” Hannibal wants to throw caution to the wind but Will is unpredictable and Hannibal isn’t sure what Will will do next.

“Some other time?”

“If you let me make you dinner?”

“I suppose that can be arranged.”

***

Will drives home and he is a little surprised that he can still feel the ghost of Hannibal’s lips on his the entire time. He almost kicks himself that he had let Hannibal send him home. But he supposes there is reason in that.

After all it’s not every day that one meets their soulmate. And Hannibal is a man that doesn’t seem to take action lightly. There is a thought that won’t let him go, which is what the truth on Hannibal’s other arm would be. He should have asked him, but the presence of the lie had been enough.

Cases of one-sided soulmates were exceedingly rare, and he knows with the presence of the lie the presence of the truth was almost certain. 

When he returns home the dogs are excited to see him, and he feeds them. He is glad that he has gone home. Arranging care for his dogs at such short notice would have been difficult. He supposes that when Hannibal does serve him dinner that he could ask Alana. She is someone who loves dogs almost as much as he does, and his dogs like her.

Looking back now, Will can’t quite believe that he had kissed Alana. She was right of course, they would have not been good for each other, Will was too unstable for her. And she was too sweet for him in the end. But it had been a nice distraction. Now though all he can think about is Hannibal.

“Fuck.” Will sighs into his hands while he is sat at his kitchen table. Thinking about what could have happened in Hannibal’s bedroom if Hannibal hadn’t been a reasonable person.

Will checks his phone and he finds a text from Hannibal. He smiles at the screen as he reads it, he knows that Hannibal is possessive and he likes that about the man.

He presses the call button after considering it for a few seconds. Hannibal answers after a few rings.

“Hello Will.” Hannibal’s smooth voice is distorted slightly but it still sends a shiver down Will’s spine.

“Hello Hannibal.”

“I trust the journey was smooth?”

“Yeah, no traffic surprisingly.” there is a slight pause before Will continues. “You said you would make me dinner.”

“I did indeed say that. Is there a time that would suit?”

“Any evening this week, unless there is a case that drags me away.”

“Then let us hope that the killers are taking the week off.”

Will laughs and it’s like he can hear Hannibal’s smile. “Friday? We could make a weekend of it.”

“Someone is eager.”

“You make me want to throw caution to the wind.”

“Just like you do to me. But we must exercise a little caution, after all we have a whole week to wait now.”

“If you hadn’t stopped me, we wouldn’t have had to wait.”

Hannibal sighs, “you are temptation personified.”

“This is the part where I shouldn’t tell you what I’m thinking about.”

“Not if you want me to break every speed limit on my way to you.”

“Maybe I want you to.”

“You are a cunning thing, aren’t you?”

“You like me like this.” Will can’t keep the flirtatious note out of his voice. He has never been so brazen before in his life but his pull towards Hannibal is undeniable.

“Go to bed Will. You tempting boy.”

The use of the word boy should send arousal spiralling through him but it does and he has to stifle a whimper. “Good night Hannibal.”

“Good night, Will. I hope you dream of me, just know that I always do.”

Hannibal is the one to hang up the phone, and Will is glad that he does as he isn’t sure that he could at this point. All he can think about is Hannibal calling him boy again.

***

The week passes far too slowly for Hannibal’s liking. With Franklyn’s death he has a conspicuous gap in his schedule. Franklyn had occupied two appointments per week and now he has nothing to do during those two hours.

He knows exactly what he is going to make for Will. Luckily for him he still has some ingredients in his freezer that means he doesn’t have to give Will another case to investigate this week. He wants Will’s attention focussed solely on him and not on anything else.

By Wednesday Hannibal is buzzing with a nervous energy that itches at him to go out and hunt, but he knows that he needs to be a bit more cautious. If Will spends more time with him then it might be harder to sneak away, especially if Will is a light sleeper.

Wednesday evening is his weekly appointment with Will. He doesn’t know whether he should do anything differently than he usually does. Hannibal has never felt so out of control before but Will is unpredictable and can so easily throw everything Hannibal had planned out of the window. He wonders if he should do something about the encephalitis that is burning through Will’s brain.

He opens the door of his office and when he finds Will sat in the chair in the waiting room he can’t help the smile that spreads over his face. When Will sees him he smiles that crooked smile that reminds Hannibal just how beautiful Will is.

Will stands and approaches Hannibal, he presses a kiss against his lips and then goes into the office. He sits in his usual chair and Hannibal takes the seat across from him. The man in front of him is different as he doesn’t stop looking at Hannibal and Hannibal looks back just as eagerly. 

“So, no new cases this week?”

“No. It’s like everyone is taking a vacation.” 

“I imagine Jack is still working you like a dog.”

“He has me going over the Ripper’s file for anything new.”

“And was there anything?”

Will shakes his head, “the Ripper will always be a mystery.”

“You don’t think you’ll crack this one?”

“I might, but the Ripper is better than anyone we’ve ever chased.” Hannibal tries not to preen at the words. “He elevates everything he does to art.”

“There is beauty in the macabre. To see the very worst in a new light is gratifying.”

“Is that how you see me?”

“I have seen you just as you are, and everything you could be.” Hannibal pauses. “That is what is beautiful about you.”

“Careful Dr Lecter. This could be deemed inappropriate by a psychiatrist.” His tone can only be described as flirtatious.

“And here I was thinking; we were just having conversations.”

Will smiles again and then he leans back in his chair. He is all graceful angles that make Hannibal want to sketch him and touch him in equal measure. “I’d quite like it to be more than conversations.”

“I thought we were going to be patient.” Hannibal considers him for long moments, “tell me Will what else makes the Ripper different to the other killers that you have knocking around that wonderful mind of yours.”

“The Ripper is, as I said, an artist. But more than that he is above us all. Everyone he kills is someone that he considers below him. I wonder who the Ripper would see as equal to him?”

“Maybe he, like all of us, is looking for someone who can see him for what he is.” Hannibal cocks his head to watch Will. “Perhaps he is looking for his soulmate?”

“It would have to be someone incredibly special to hold and capture the Ripper’s interest.”

“That they would.” Will is of course right. Only someone as singular as him would hold his interest. “Does the concept frighten you? That the Ripper has someone out there who is his perfect match.”

“We all have someone, don’t we? The Ripper is after all a man. It would follow that The Ripper has someone who can keep up with him.”

Hannibal knows that Will is someone that would be able to keep up with him. He is reminded then of Will covered in blood the way he had in the Hobbs’ kitchen so many months ago. It had been the most wonderful sight. But the most beautiful sight would be seeing Will bathed in a more deliberate kill. 

A clock chimes, and Hannibal hates that their hour is up. But he has to be patient even as Will manages to drive him to distraction all the time. He can’t wait to get his hands on Will’s naked skin as soon as possible. Friday couldn’t come soon enough for him. 

Will stands reluctantly and Hannibal does too. Hannibal leads him to the door with a hand at the small of his back, Will leans into the touch. It is then that Hannibal realises that Will is incredibly touch-starved the way he leans into every touch that Hannibal doles out to him.

At the door Will kisses him again. He is like a moth drawn to a flame but Hannibal is just as drawn to him as Will is to Hannibal. This kiss is deep and consuming and it would be so easy to pull Will back into the room and push him onto the chaise in the middle of the room. Or even over the desk. Hannibal even considers shoving away all the things left on his desk.

Will pulls away and Hannibal follows him for a moment, kissing the smile off of his face before he takes Hannibal’s face in his hand and says, “I thought you counselled patience.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Hannibal regrets it now. An emotion that he is not altogether familiar with.

“I’ll be around yours at seven.”

“Come hungry.”

“I always do.”

Hannibal watches Will leave. Once he is gone Hannibal considers writing some notes in his file for Will but he can’t seem to concentrate. Instead he gets into his car and drives home to plan a feast befitting Will.

***

Friday arrives with little fanfare but Will still feels like it is a momentous day. In many ways it is. It will be the first time that he will have a full dinner at Hannibal’s and not just meals that have been brought to him.

There is nervousness that is beginning to spread through him already. He knows what the evening will also entail, and he has never slept with another man, let alone his soulmate. His own experimentation in college had been limited to drunken fumbling handjobs in dark rooms. They were unremarkable in his own memory. Will knows that Hannibal has far more experience than he does. The man exudes a sensuality that is magnetic and he is an obvious hedonist that has never denied himself anything even if some might frown upon it.

Alana had agreed to looking after his dogs with a strange smile. Perhaps surprised when Will had told her that he was spending the weekend with someone. He hadn’t told her who, not quite ready for anyone to know. They are, after all, still at a precipice. Will has no doubts that meshing his life with Hannibal’s will never be easy because Will is by nature someone who enjoys his solitude. But he has no doubt that Hannibal will do everything he can to accommodate him.

Will is almost alight with anxiety by the time he makes it home he is a mess of anxiety. The first thing he does is feed the dogs and get out food for them from the freezer for Alana to feed them with.

He leaves the note of what to feed when on one of his kitchen counters for Alana. He had emailed her too but he wants to make sure all his bases are covered. Will knows it’s to try and keep himself busy before he has to leave.

Tidying up the last few things in his house he supposes that he has to get ready to drive to Hannibal’s house.

Will goes upstairs to shower. Once he is out of the shower he briefly considers shaving his beard off but he thinks that he looks far too young without one. Instead he trims his beard and puts product in his hair to tame it a little.

Looking into his closet makes him feel nervous all over again. He has nothing that would pass Hannibal’s muster he’s sure. And it has been so long since Will had been on a date that he is sure that the clothes he would have worn once upon a time no longer fit him. In the end he settles on a red shirt and dark slacks. Hoping that they at least look slightly more presentable than his usual plaid shirts. Will wonders whether Hannibal would ever decide to dress him, and the thought makes him feel both aroused and giddy. He knows Hannibal would delight in him only wearing things that Hannibal has bought him.

He waits downstairs until there is a knock on his front door and Alana looks at him with a strange look in her eyes.

“Must be someone very special.” 

“Hi Alana.” Will says with a wry smile. “Do I look that bad normally?”

“Of course not. But it’s not like you to dress up at all.”

“I suppose it isn’t. But like you said it’s someone very special.”

“Well good luck then. I’ll probably grab the dogs and take them for a walk and then head back to mine.”

Will nods, he knows it’ll be easier for her to look after the dogs.

“Food is in the fridge, you can take it along with you.”

“Thanks Will. Well I imagine you had better get in the car and go to meet this special someone.”

“Thanks again Alana. Let me know if something happens. Vet’s number is on the note I left you.”

“I promise I can handle this. You can go now.”

“Let me say goodbye.”

“And get dog hair all over your clothes? Just go.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t own a single item that isn’t covered in hair.”

“But this one looks rather clean so you can get in your car and drive away.”

Will shakes his head in amusement but he takes his duffle bag and gets in his car and makes his way towards Baltimore.

***

Hannibal is just finishing the last of the starter when the doorbell rings. He checks his watch, glad to see that Will is right on time. He had been worried that maybe that Will wouldn’t come tonight. The man is after all skittish at the best of times, and from his experience in practice that meeting your soulmate can be overwhelming.

He opens the door for Will and is struck by how beautiful the man is. Will has trimmed his beard and his hair is beautifully arranged. Will is looking at him with a hungry look in his eyes and Hannibal wonders for a moment whether making food might have been a mistake.

“You look beautiful.”

Will flushes at the words. “I could say the same about you.”

Hannibal pulls Will through the door and then shuts the door and pushes Will against it to kiss him. Each taste of Will is like it opens a bouquet of flavor that he wants to commit to a feast.

He is panting when he draws back. “Now I have a feast for you.”

“I suddenly find myself not hungry at all.” Will’s stomach growls in spite of his statement and he looks down at himself as if he’s been betrayed.

“I promise you’ll need the energy. I have plans for you.”

Will looks like he can’t quite believe what is happening. Hannibal takes the bag from Will and says, “you go sit down in the dining room and I will join you in a moment.”

He walks towards the dining room reluctantly. And Hannibal takes the bag upstairs and to his room. He leaves it one of the stools and then goes downstairs to the kitchen. He plates the starter and then carries it through to the dining room.

Will is stood in front of the painting above the fireplace. “Leda and the swan. An interesting choice for a dining room painting.”

“I aim to titillate. But you are the first to comment on it. Everyone else just looks at it and then leaves it at that.”

“I suppose not everyone knows the myth around it. Some people may only know the violent myth, but other versions of the myth have Zeus seducing Leda. Is this what this is?”

“Do you want to be seduced or taken?”

“Now that just depends on what you have planned.”

Hannibal smiles, “sit please.”

Will does and then Hannibal places the dish in front of him, pours them both a glass of wine and then takes a seat himself. They sit opposite each other and normally Hannibal would have sat at the head of the table. But this feels more intimate. 

“What have you made?”

“Foie gras au torchon, with figs and a vidal sauce.”

“It looks delicious. Although I’ve heard foie gras is a cruel dish.”

“I only employ an ethical butcher.”

“Then you should share my thanks.”

“I shall pass on the message.” Hannibal pauses and lifts up his wine glass. “Bon appetit.”

“Bon appetit.” Will echos that and takes a sip of the wine. Hannibal watches his throat work with a hungry look. Everything the man opposite does is so unintentionally sensual and alluring. 

Hannibal cuts himself a piece of the foie gras and takes a bite. A moan catches his attention and he looks at Will who has his eyes closed in enjoyment. Hannibal feels a flash of heat course through him, he doesn’t know how he is going to get through the entire meal with Will making noises like that.

“This is delicious Hannibal. Although I should have known that based on the scramble you made me all that time ago.”

Hannibal smiles. “I aim to please.”

“Oh that you are.” The tone of Will’s voice is so seductive that he almost wants to ignore the rest of the meal. 

“Well I’m pleased that you are enjoying your evening.”

They eat in a charged silence. Both stealing glances at the other one they aren’t looking directly at each other. Hannibal can feel the smile that doesn’t leave his face.

When they finish the appetiser. Hannibal waits a moment before he takes their plates and then takes them back to the kitchen. 

He knows that he should deal with the plates there and then but Will makes him feel impatient. Hannibal instead plates the osso buco and the accompanying risotto. He carries the plates back into the dining room. This time he pours them both a red wine.

“Osso buco with a saffron risotto.”

“Hannibal, this looks exceptional. It’s like you should have been a chef rather than a psychiatrist.”

“I did transfer my passion from surgeon to the culinary arts. It’s a similar sort of precision, although no one is going to die from my cooking.”

“Is that why you stopped being a surgeon?”

“Yes. I couldn’t save a patient. And I suppose I couldn’t deal with the affront to my skills.”

“These things do happen though.”

“Objectively it was something I have always known but I was young and arrogant.”

“I can imagine you would have been a great surgeon. You have a surgeon’s hands.”

“You spend a lot of time looking and thinking about my hands?”

“More than I care to admit.” There is a fetching blush on Will’s face. 

“Well I imagine you will become very well acquainted with them.”

Will flushes again. “I hope so.” He sounds almost breathless.

“Eat your food.”

Will does and only when Will begins does Hannibal take his own bite of food. Even though he had made the food the flavors compliment each other beautifully. Will is making those noises again that drive him to distraction. He commits the sounds to memory that he wants to use for his next composition.

“How did you manage to pull this off?”

“Time management. I’ve learned to plan every minute of every day for it to reach its fullest possibility.”

“It seems almost supernatural at this point. You pack more into one day than most people do in a week.”

“Was there a double entendre somewhere in there?”

“Perhaps.” Will says with a grin and then takes a sip of the wine. “This is a really good wine.”

“I have an associate that is a sommelier. It was one he recommended.”

“All my acquaintances and associates I know are work related.”

“You don’t like to spend time with anyone?”

“Well, present company excluded of course, I found most people so loud. Like they are shouting all the time.”

“Your empathy is a sharp tool and most people have very few barriers to the outside world.”

“But you do. How do you manage it?”

“I suppose it comes from being a surgeon, one learns to compartmentalize, and how to separate oneself from what is going on around you.”

“There’s more to it than that though. I know a few doctors and they are still loud when they aren’t working.”

Hannibal is struck then at Will’s insight. His soulmate could be very dangerous to him but he knows that there is a possibility when Will leans into the darkness he can see in him he just needs to nudge him in the right direction.

“My childhood was not a happy one. As I told you before, I grew up as an orphan but that’s not the whole story. After my parents’ death I looked after my sister until she too was killed by monsters.” Will is looking at him with an unreadable expression. “I grew up in an orphanage until Robertas adopted me. The orphanage was terrible, Lithuanian orphanages don’t exactly have a reputation of good conditions. But the worst part was the other boys. Boys don’t take kindly to a mute underfed boy. I learnt to let everything roll off of me until I was strong enough to fight back.”

“Children can be exceptionally cruel.”

“A gift humanity has given itself.”

“I’m sorry Hannibal. No child should have to go through what you went through.”

“It made me what I am today.”

“You miss her so much.”

It’s not a question and Hannibal feels stripped raw by Will. No one alive knows about Mischa. But Will had been able to get right to the core of him. That just cements to him how perfectly matched Will is to him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Never apologize Will. I want there to be nothing between us.”

“Nothing?” Will’s voice takes up a flirtatious tone again.

“Absolutely nothing.” Hannibal affirms. “But dessert first.”

“That’s not the kind of dessert I want.”

“Allow me one more indulgence.”

“Just one more?”

“You are incorrigible.” Hannibal says as he picks up their empty plates.

He brings out the dessert. Will looks at the plate when it is placed in front of him. “This looks deceptively simple.”

“I promise you it is. Sanguinaccio Dolce is a dessert made with milk, chocolate, sugar and blood.”

“You are really broadening my horizons.” Will takes the spoon and tastes the dish. “This is incredible. So rich.”

“Sometimes the simplest pleasures are the best pleasures.”

“You like pursuing pleasure at all times.”

“I’ve never been one to deny myself anything.”

Will hums, he looks flushed again. Hannibal wonders if Will would bruise as easily as he flushes. The thought of seeing Will covered in his marks, for everyone to see, makes him feel dizzy with arousal and want.

Hannibal rushes through the dessert, as does Will. It seems that both of them have reached the end of their patience when it comes to food. When their plates are empty Hannibal stands to take their plates. When he is standing next to Will the man grabs his tie and pulls him down to kiss him. He tastes like blood and chocolate and Hannibal groans into the kiss. 

He is in danger of dropping the plates so he pulls back reluctantly. “Why don’t you go upstairs. Don’t undress quite yet.”

“Want to unwrap me for yourself?”

“That I do.”

Will stands and kisses him again. “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.”

Hannibal leaves the room and goes into the kitchen. He puts the plates into the dishwasher and then places the pots and pans into the sink to soak. Finally he makes sure that he has enough for breakfast the next morning.

***

Hannibal’s bedroom is everything that he was expecting. It is dark but looks comfortable. The teal of the ceiling is slightly surprising. And the mirror above the bed makes him feel a little hot around the collar. It makes him feel self-conscious, sure that he will look ridiculous the entire time. He takes off his shoes because he doesn’t know what else to do and he is glad then that Hannibal hadn’t asked himself to undress as he knows that he would feel too awkward lying naked on the bed with the mirror above them. 

Luckily before he can truly spiral Hannibal opens the door and smiles when he sees Will. “Took you long enough.” Will says with a smile.

Hannibal doesn’t say anything but instead stalks towards him. He looks like a predator and it thrills Will and sends a warm flash through him. Hannibal kisses him, one hand in his hair and the other is pulling him close. His chest collides with Hannibal’s and he is sure that Hannibal can feel his heart racing. 

His head is pulled back by his hair and he moans as the sparks of pain send his arousal spiralling. He had never known that pain could be so arousing. Hannibal is pushing him to the bed until he lands on it, the wind is knocked out of him. Already breathless from the kiss.

When he is lying on the bed, Hannibal crawls over him like a panther. There is so much power in Hannibal that he had never noticed before. Hannibal kisses him again before he sits back over Will’s hips. The weight of him is equal parts arousing and comforting. 

Hannibal begins unbuttoning his shirt, kissing and nipping at each bit of skin is revealed. When the shirt is open Hannibal teases at his right nipple, biting at it and pulling at it until Will gasps at the pain. It shoots arousal down to his cock and he feels like he is losing any higher function of his brain. A tongue soothes the sting before he sucks the bud into his mouth. Will is sure that if Hannibal could consume him whole he would. Will wants to let him. The idea shouldn’t arouse him as much as he does. Then Hannibal pays attention to the other but until it too is so sensitive that every brush makes him squirm so that he has to reach up to pull Hannibal back down to kiss him.

Kissing Hannibal is like nothing else, Hannibal overwhelms him completely. His tongue strokes at his and then Hannibal nips at his lips.

“God. Your mouth.” Will moans out when they part. 

Hannibal chuckles and Will can feel it against his stomach. It sends fissures through him. Hannibal nips at his skin. He knows that by the end of the night he will be covered in bruises, it is incredibly arousing to think that he will have a more deliberate mark from Hannibal on his skin.

Will sits up to remove his shirt and kisses Hannibal again. He reaches for the buttons of his waistcoat but Hannibal stops his hands. “Patience.”

“I don’t want to be patient anymore.”

“But you must. I have plans for you.”

“What kind of plans?”

“You will see.” Hannibal doesn’t reveal much and he knows that nothing will move Hannibal when he doesn’t want to.

Hannibal pushes him back against the bed and kisses down his body until he reaches Will’s belt. He palms Will’s cock, that is so hard he thinks he might come as soon as Hannibal has his bare hands against him. 

Sex had been pleasurable in the past but this blows everything out of the water. He supposes there is something to be said about sleeping with your soulmate. Because it does feel like there is something more that is reaching out to Hannibal than just his attraction to the man. 

Hannibal unbuckles his belt and pulls it out of the loops slowly, everything he is doing seems to be to make Will more desperate to touch him. He tries to sit up again but Hannibal gives him a look that quells the need to move. He wants to be what Hannibal wants him to be. It is odd too, usually when Will sleeps with someone he is so attune to their desires that he becomes whatever they want. But with Hannibal this desire to be what Hannibal wants feels like his own. That and this yearning for Hannibal that sets his entire body aflame. 

His pants are unbuttoned and then pulled down his legs. Will misses Hannibal’s weight as soon as it’s gone. But Hannibal kisses and nips at each new bit of skin that is revealed. Will should have known that Hannibal enjoys biting, there is something so sensual about the way he eats that tells of true enjoyment of it. 

Will is in just his underwear when Hannibal gets off of the bed to undress. The first thing he does is unbutton the plaid waistcoat he is wearing. Hannibal places it neatly folded over the back of a chair and Will is surprised that Hannibal wears suspenders rather than a belt. It is an undeniably attractive look on him. Then Hannibal pulls them off of his shoulder so he can take off the shirt. Will is surprised to see that Hannibal has a hairy chest. There is a smattering of gray amongst the hair. He wants desperately to run his hands through them, wondering what it would feel like against his chest. Hannibal is watching Will watch him with an amused look in his eyes. The shirt too is folded and placed on the chair. Then Hannibal undoes his pants and pushes them down to step out of them. There is undeniable power in Hannibal’s body. He looks far more muscled than one would expect of a psychiatrist. But it excites Will to see so much power in Hannibal. Will’s eyes are drawn to the bulge in Hannibal’s underwear and he feels equally nervous and excited. 

When Hannibal is left in his underwear and socks that are held up by garters he prowls back onto the bed and on top of Will. He grunts under the welcome weight which turns into a moan when Hannibal drives his cock against Will’s.

Hannibal kisses him and swallows down the noises. Will kisses back just as eagerly and grinds his hips up and against Hannibal, feeling gratified when Hannibal groans into his mouth. It is a slow grinding movement as they rock against each other. Hannibal’s hands are everywhere and they leave trails of heat everywhere they touch, so it feels like there isn’t an inch of Will that Hannibal isn’t touching.

He fills lips moving down his neck and there are spots that Will didn’t know his neck could be this sensitive. Hannibal’s teeth graze over his neck and he bites down at the join of his neck and shoulder. Will moans at the pain, he suddenly has the image of Hannibal taking a chunk out of his flesh and swallowing it, so that it stays with him always. “Harder.” Will murmurs.

Hannibal reaches up to kiss him again. “Are you sure?”

“Please.” Will says resolutely. He wants something to scar. “Until you taste blood.”

“You have no idea what you mean to me, precious boy.”

The words send more heat to his cock. “Please Hannibal.”

Hannibal presses another kiss against his lips and then there are lips at his shoulders kissing at the join between his neck and shoulder. Will doesn’t brace himself because he trusts Hannibal completely. Then he feels the graze of teeth teasing there. Then they are biting down, there is a flash of pain as he feels his skin divot. He groans as he feels the skin break and then Hannibal is tonguing over the spot. 

He surges up to kiss Hannibal and Will can taste his own blood on his tongue and it is that what makes Will come with a groan into his mouth. Hannibal grinds down a few more times before he stiffens and then Will feels damp between them. 

Will laughs. One hand is on Hannibal’s shoulder and he realises when he unclenches his hands that he has drawn blood beneath his nails. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. You are radiant in pain.”

Hannibal rolls off of him and then pulls Will to lie on his chest. His nose is buried in Will’s hair and one hand is trailing patterns down his back. Will glances up at the mirror and sees his own face. The look on his face is so strange to see he barely recognizes himself. He looks so happy that it feels strange on him. There is a flush on his cheeks, one that is only eclipsed by the shock of red at his neck, the contrast is strong to the paleness of his skin. 

“Do you need a bandage for that?” 

“Hmmm?” Will hums, he feels a little dizzy and like he is floating.

“I think so.” Hannibal reluctantly extraites himself from Will’s arms. Once he is out of the bed he pulls off his underwear and strides through another room in the bathroom. Hannibal’s ass makes Will want to reach out and touch.

Without Hannibal’s warmth the cooling come in his boxers is beginning to get uncomfortable. So Will strips out of them, and places them with the rest of his clothes. Then he gets underneath the covers on the bed. He had been too distracted earlier to feel the material against his skin but now alone he luxuriates in the feeling. 

Hannibal returns to the room and smiles when he catches Will’s eyes. “Comfortable.”

“I’d be more comfortable with you in bed with me.”

“That can be arranged. But I must treat the bite on your neck first.”

Will nods slowly, his eyes are raking over Hannibal’s body. His cock is big even while soft and it doesn’t make Will feel nervous. He already knows that after having Hannibal’s teeth in his neck that having Hannibal inside of him is all he wants. All he can really think about. 

Hannibal pulls back the covers and sits down at the edge of the bed. He has a med kit in one hand and a flannel in the other. He uses the warm flannel to clean Will’s groin and he squirms in over sensitivity. He places the flannel on the nightstand and then opens the med kit. 

Will watches with rapt attention as Hannibal takes out an alcohol wipe and cleans the wound. It stings a little but he is pleased to see that the wipe still comes away red with his blood. Then Hannibal places a piece of gauze over the bite that he tapes down.

“Will it scar?”

“I think it will. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. I want it to.” Will is feeling tired all of a sudden. “Want a mark that’s there by choice.”

Hannibal kisses him again. Will reciprocates but he can feel himself fading. 

“Get into bed with me.”

“Impatient boy.”

Will only hums. But Hannibal gets into bed behind him and pulls him close and pulls the covers over him. Being held by Hannibal he falls asleep.

***

Hannibal watches Will for long moments as he falls into a deep sleep. His heart and mind are racing. This brilliant mind is asleep in his arms. He can see the stark white of the gauze he had applied to his wound. The trust that Will bestows on him makes him feel like he is the luckiest man alive. 

Of course Will had ruined his plans for the evening, but Hannibal can’t bring himself to care about that, he had after all been transcendent in his pain. He is like a being from another dimension, and Hannibal wants nothing more than to sketch him in this moment. Carefully Hannibal rolls to his other side to fetch the sketchbook he keeps there.

He sketches Will in that moment of pain so that he has it down. Then he turns the page to sketch the sleeping figure beside him. He spends a long time trying to get the exact peaceful expression on his face. 

Once he is finished he puts away his sketch book and then curls back around Will to join him in sleep. 

Hannibal wakes when he feels Will shake in his arms, the man is whimpering in his sleep and there is a deep crease between his eyebrows. Hannibal tightens his arms around Will, and it seems to calm him down. Will turns in his arms and buries his head in his chest. His legs intertwine with Hannibal’s. Hannibal shushes him again and he seems completely still again.

When Hannibal wakes again it is to the sun creeping through a slight gap in the curtain. He is completely intertwined with Will. Gently he unwinds Will’s limbs from him so that he can get out of bed.

He pulls on a pair of pajama pants and a sweater. Hannibal looks back to the bed and sees that Will has buried his head into Hannibal’s pillow. The sight warms Hannibal. Reluctantly he leaves the room to go down to the kitchen. The first thing he does is start his coffee maker, he has learned about Will that the man is unable to function in the morning without a cup of coffee.

Then he starts making them breakfast. This time he starts with frying some sausages that he had made earlier in the week. Then he places two brioche loaves in a pan of hot oil, he has hollowed out the center of them, he cracks an egg into the wells. He lets the egg whites set completely before he slides them out of the pan and onto plates adding the sausage to the plates. Finally he pours two cups of coffee and then puts everything onto a tray. He adds a decoration to the tray and then he carries it upstairs.

When he enters the bedroom Will is slowly waking up. When he sees Hannibal he smiles with a fond look in his eyes. His hair is mussed from sleep, one half of his hair is pressed flat against his head.

Will sits up in bed and leans against the pillows. “You brought me breakfast in bed? You really know how to treat a guy.”

“All part of the service I promise.”

“I could get used to this.”

Hannibal hums, it is an intriguing thought. But not one he is going to explore at the moment there is still so much that they don’t really know about the other, and it would severely hamper his activities.

Will takes a cup of coffee from the tray and sips at it. “This is really good coffee.”

“Let me guess you’re usually an instant kind of guy?”

“How did you know?”

“Well from what I’ve seen you’re not someone who is particularly bothered about what you put in you.”

“Sometimes I am.” The tone is flirtatious again. 

“Eat your breakfast.”

Will nods and tucks in. Hannibal sits down on the bed and takes his own plate. They eat in comfortable silence. Will moans when he bites into the sausage and the noise is so close to what he had made last night that it sends warmth through Hannibal.

“You made these sausages?”

“That I did.”

“God, is there anything you can’t do perfectly?”

Hannibal chuckles, “I’ve been told I’m a bit of a renaissance man. I try to excel in as many things as possible.”

“That makes sense. You make everything look so easy.”

“I assure you, it’s a lot of practice.”

“Practice makes perfect I suppose.”

They finish eating and then Will turns to Hannibal. “What are the plans for today?”

“I can think of a thing or to.”

“Do these involve staying in bed all day?”

“Not all of them. But I wanted to take you on a date.”

Will seems to be nervous at that. “Nowhere fancy please.”

“It was just a gallery.” Hannibal takes the plate off of him. “An acquaintance of mine has a photography exhibit and I wanted to take a look.”

“This isn’t going to be something that requires me to be sociable?”

“No. It’ll be a private showing. My friend assured me the gallery would be all ours.”

Will beams at that. “Then I accept.”

“Lots of dark corners there too.”

“There are?” Will sounds eager about the possibility. 

Hannibal only nods and finishes his breakfast. Noting with pleasure that Will does too. Hannibal has always enjoyed feeding people but feeding Will is on a whole other level. He cannot wait for the day when they are feasting on the kills they have made together. 

Once they are finished Hannibal directs Will to the bathroom and then goes downstairs to get rid of the plates. With everything cleared he goes into one of the spare bathrooms to shower. Returning to his bedroom to get dressed he notices with pleasure that Will’s comes out of the shower with just a towel around his waist and Will’s eyes are on him.

"You need to give me warning next time.” Will says with a smile.

“I’m just fetching some clothes.” Hannibal counters.

“I wouldn’t mind watching you dress.” Will says as he sits on the bed. 

“Curious.”

“Is it?” Will says with a smile. Hannibal’s eyes watch droplets of water pooling at his collarbone and then make their way down his chest, the path distorted by the thick gauze over the bite. “I want to see your person suit be constructed before my eyes.”

“Person suit?”

“Yes. There is so much about you that is made to cater to everyone outside. And your suits are a part of that.”

Hannibal doesn’t say anything. It is difficult to judge what Will might do next. 

“Although most would attempt to blend in with a crowd, you don’t. You fascinate people. The strange gentleman from Europe, who excels at everything he touches.”

“You like to blend in.” Hannibal says after a moment, Will has been able to see him so clearly so easily. “You don’t want anyone to notice your strangeness, or any of your more positive attributes.”

Will chuckles slightly. “Not many positive attributes from where I’m standing. Just a mirror to hold up the worst in others and myself.”

Hannibal rushes over to him, to kiss Will gently. He hopes that he is able to show Will how much regard he has for him. “The positives far outweigh any of your perceived negatives. And they are not detractions of any sort.”

Will’s eyes are wet, a tear threatening to fall. Hannibal catches the tear with his thumb. “You are the first.”

“The first to what? Shower you with compliments you so justly deserve and are in need of?”

“To be so kind.”

“Kindness isn’t always a double-edged sword.”

“But it can be used as such.”

Hannibal sees Will’s eyes trying to look at his left wrist and he twists his arm so the words there are difficult to read. “Now I believe you wanted to watch me get dressed.”

Will hums in pleasure. Usually he would get dressed within the closet, but this time he fetches his clothes and brings them into the bedroom. 

He comes to stop in front of Will and lets the towel drop. Will inhales sharply. “If you keep looking at me like that we will never make it out.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“I know you don’t but you said I could.”

“Then you ought to get dressed.”

“I would have been content to get dressed alone but you requested I get dressed in front of you.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

Hannibal pulls on his underwear, Will’s gaze is so openly hungry that he can feel himself thickening slightly.

Next is the socks and accompanying sock garters. At Will’s look he snaps the elastic against his calf, Will’s eyes are dark and he can see that Will’s towel does little to hide his arousal. 

Hannibal prowls over to Will and rips the towel from his grasp. Will whimpers as Hannibal sinks to his knees in front of Will. 

A hand finds itself in his hair as he breathes over Will’s cock. Will’s fingers dig into his scalp, small pinpricks of pain only serve to spur him on. 

His cock is red and wet at the tip as Hannibal wraps his lips around the head and sucks. Will’s fingers tighten in his hair. 

Hannibal has always enjoyed this act, bringing his partners pleasure. But being able to taste Will is on another level. He enjoys the taste of musk and salt on his skin, clean and bright from the shower but something that is undeniably Will. 

He hollows his cheeks as he sucks him down. Hannibal teases him mercilessly until Will comes down his throat with a shout. For a moment he savours the taste of Will before he sits up to kiss Will who groans into his mouth.

Will reaches for his groin but Hannibal pushes his hand away.

“Have some patience.”

Will looks wonderful when he is almost dumbfounded by pleasure. But he begins to dress with a sigh.

***

The gallery that Hannibal takes him to is beautiful. And just as he had promised they are completely alone there. There had only been a security guard who had let them into the building. 

Hannibal’s hand is in the small of his back as he leads him through. Making comments about each photograph. It is surprisingly easy to just focus on what Hannibal is saying and not let himself be drawn in by what the photographer was feeling when they pressed that shutter.

Being in Hannibal’s presence works so well at drowning out the noise from everyone else. It’s like he has dived headfirst into a pool and the water is muffling all the speech around him. The pattern and cadence of Hannibal’s voice is soothingly melodic, and Will knows why he is such a sought after psychiatrist. He can imagine how easy it is to listen to that voice and let it direct him towards something.

Will knows there is a part of Hannibal he still hasn’t gotten to know but what he does know is fascinating. There is a darkness in Hannibal, that much he knows, and Will is sure that it comes from trauma. Hannibal has alluded that the absence of his parents was no accident but something violent and visceral. Like Will, Hannibal is unlikely to offer the information without prompting. Preferring instead to have Will intuit and guess at the reason.

There is one photograph that Hannibal lingers on longer than the others. When Will only glances at it, it seems like just a photograph of a landscape with perhaps an odd perspective. Hannibal only states that the photograph was taken in Washington. Will looks more closely and recognises some of the features even if they are somewhat distorted by the angle.

“It’s the Cascade Range in Washington. Where Bundy’s ashes are scattered, and probably some of his victims are still buried.”

“How did you recognise it?”

“It’s something about the way that the trees are growing, a sense of darkness in the photo.” Will sighs, “Bundy was one of the killers that everyone in my class wanted to write about. He changed how we looked at serial killers.”

“He is often the first that is mentioned in any books on the subject, his infamy is huge.”

“Bundy was nothing more than a misogynist who desperately wanted an absent father’s approval. He butchered women, defiled them and who was convinced of his own superiority over others.”

“You make it sound as though there are better killers than Bundy.”

“The Ripper comes to mind. I know it’s macabre to say, but the Ripper makes art out of his victims. There is none of this fevered anger that Bundy had for his victims. The Ripper elevates his victims to more than the pigs they are to him.”

“Wouldn’t pigs suggest that the Ripper is angry at his victims?”

“No. He sees them as pigs in the same way we would see a simple pig on a farm. We already know the Ripper is eating parts of his victims. So it follows that the Ripper’s victims are just animals to him that for some reason he chooses to slaughter.”

Hannibal doesn’t say anything but he is looking at Will with that fond look he often gets. He knows that it is to do with the way that he thinks. Hannibal has been open about saying as much to him. Will still isn’t used to praise being given to him. Far more used to people seeing him as a specimen to study but it always seems to Will that Hannibal loves watching him think because he enjoys listening to Will’s babbling.

“This is far too morbid a topic to be discussing for a date.” Will tries to change the subject, hoping that he hasn’t misstepped in some way.

Hannibal pulls at the lapels of his jacket to kiss Will. He flushes before he remembers that they are alone in the building. He deepens the kiss and wraps his arms around Hannibal’s back. Will still cannot get used to the way that Hannibal kisses; all consuming. Before Hannibal he never truly liked kissing another person, but now it’s like he cannot get enough of it. Hannibal’s hand cradles the back of his head, making him feel safe while the other squeezes his ass. All Will can think of is the previous night and the morning and the pleasure that Hannibal had managed to wring out of his body. 

Will hates that he has to breathe when he pulls back slightly. His forehead resting on Hannibal’s so that they are sharing the same air. “If you keep going even your wealth won’t stop us from being arrested.”

Hannibal chuckles and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “I have a lunch spot I wanted to show you first. Then home I think.”

“You have somewhere that you would eat at outside of your house.”

“On occasion I do find a cafe or restaurant that exceeds expectations. Besides I don’t know whether I would want to be apart from you to cook.”

“I could always stay in the kitchen and help.”

“I feel like you would offer a distraction more than anything else, you are a tempest after all.”

Will lets the compliment warm him, realising that he needs to start getting used to it. “So lunch then?”

“Yes. I should think so.”

Hannibal’s hand is back on the small of his back as he guides Will out of the art exhibit and to the streets of Baltimore. They only have to walk for a few minutes before Hannibal has them standing outside an unassuming building. Hannibal opens the door for him and the bell above the door rings. 

Inside the atmosphere can only be described as cosy. Something that he never would have expected that Hannibal would enjoy. In fact what Will had imagined is some michelin starred restaurant that was adorned in brushed steel and black iron. Not this cafe with comfortable looking chairs and low light that made it seem more like a living room than a cafe.

“You seem surprised.”

“Yes. I was expecting a cafe that had items on the menu that I would have found impossible to pronounce.”

“I know the value of good comfort food. In fact I see it as my next challenge. I imagine you grew up on Cajun cooking. So now I have a new cuisine to master.”

Somehow this makes Will realise how fond of him Hannibal is, that he would attempt something without knowing that he will immediately master it. Will presses a kiss to Hannibal’s cheek. “I’m sure you’ll do perfectly.”

“You have too much faith in me,”

“And you have yet to disappoint me in any way.” Will can’t help the smile on his face. “I cannot help but feel that you will find me lacking in some way soon.”

“I doubt that very much.”

Hannibal squeezes his hand. Will knows that objectively he is attractive but there is so much about him that is lacking. Barely enough of a person that matches the life that Hannibal leads. Everything about Will in contrast is rough hewn, like he is cut from a burlap and Hannibal from a damask silk. He thinks it seems almost like a cruel trick of fate on Hannibal for him to be landed with a soulmate like Will who can barely offer anything to the man.

They are seated at a small table towards the back of the cafe by a friendly looking woman. She clearly recognizes Hannibal as she squeezes his hand and speaks to him in rapid fire Italian. Will knows enough French to catch a few words that are similar enough that he understands that they are talking about a trip.

When they finish talking the woman turns to Will and says, “and who is this handsome man?”

Hannibal looks at him with that same fond look. “This is my soulmate, Will.”

“I am so pleased to meet you. You must be a very special man to be Hannibal’s soulmate.”

“Just a man.” Will answers.

“Will is an accomplished teacher and consultant at the FBI. And far too humble for his own good.”

Will can feel the flush on his cheeks and he feels ridiculous. Hannibal runs in these circles in the way that Will never could.

The woman instead seems charmed. “I see it now. You bring Hannibal back down to Earth.”

Hannibal only hums and Will can see that he has a moue of disappointment on his face. “Actually Will makes me want to be better.”

“You misunderstood me. He grounds you amongst us mere mortals. Because he is your perfect counterpoint. And that makes you better.”

He seems mollified by the statement and Will is sure he saw something dark flash in his face. But it might just be because he was looking for something in his face.

“Well let me get you some food that I know you’ll love. My soulmate always manages to create the perfect dish for everyone.”

Hannibal smiles, “Madam Bernard is right. Her partner makes the most wonderful pastries and lunches.”

“That sounds good. I will happily take anything Hannibal recommends.”

“He has a discerning palate and so Lou works hard to impress Hannibal.”

“And he manages it every time.”

Madam Bernard leaves them and Will looks to Hannibal who is watching her retreating back with a calculating look. It’s strange because it feels like Will never would have noticed the expression on his face before but it’s like he is learning to read Hannibal. He wonders whether there is something to be said about the fledgling bonds between soulmates.

“She’s right you know.”

“How?”

“I’m steadfast. You’re not going to drive me away now.”

Hannibal smiles and he looks so relieved that it makes Will’s chest hurt. “Did you think I’d leave?”

“Will, I am more than aware of how extravagant of a life I lead. There is a possibility that all this will be too much for you.”

Will wants to laugh but he knows how that could come across. “Hannibal. I think we will learn and grow with one another. You’re already accommodating me in your life. I can’t imagine that you usually would have picked someone with seven dogs.”

Hannibal chuckles and it warms Will. “Perhaps not. But I think now I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nods, Hannibal is not he would have ever imagined in a soulmate. And yet he supposes that is rather the point. Your soulmate may not be who you imagined but it is who you need.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal is glad when they make it back to his house. He shows Will to the study and tells him to read books at his perusal. Although everything in his body screams at him to spend more time with Will he knows that the man needs some time alone. Will kisses him to show his gratitude and brushes fingers over the spines of each book. The fire crackling once Hannibal lights it with a match. He wants to stay in that room with Will in this peaceful domesticity. 

It gives Hannibal to start on dinner for the two of them. Ordinarily if there was someone he was trying to seduce in his house he would be trying to create a gourmet feast that some have remarked can only be found in a Michelin starred restaurant. But with Will he wants to strip back his food to something comforting that feels like home.

He knows that he may be slightly counting his chickens before they hatch but there is an easiness in his interactions with Will. for the first time since Lady Murasaki does Hannibal feel like he can begin to show parts of himself to another person. It exhilarates him as much as it frightens him. He doesn’t know what it means for him to make himself so vulnerable to another, like he is peeling back his armor for Will to be able to get to the soft parts of him.

Hannibal starts the soup by chopping vegetables. This part is something he has always enjoyed doing. Nothing is quite as meditative as letting the heft of the knife do the heavy lifting as it cuts through everything below it. 

Will returns to him as he is searing the meat on all sides. He doesn’t seem entirely sure what has brought him down into the kitchen, whether it is the smell of cooking food or the desire Hannibal himself feels to be close to the other. Arms wrap around him as he cooks and Will rests his chin on his shoulder.

He brings a warmth to Hannibal’s back that he enjoys far too much, he wishes that he didn’t want to feed them first. Will seems to know that he isn’t going to break his concentration. “What are you making?”

“Borscht.” Hannibal says. Finally the meat is seared to his liking. Hannibal taps at the arms on his chest and Will lets go with a sigh. He gets the stock from the fridge and adds it to the pot. The vegetables he had chopped early go in on top, adding herbs to the pot he gives it a stir before adding a lid and turning up the heat below. 

Hannibal turns to Will and presses a kiss to his lips. Will hums and then smiles. Chasing Hannibal’s lips when he draws back. Hannibal gives in and kisses him again, chasing the taste of his lips.

“I gather from the beets that the Borscht will have a vibrant colour?”

“Yes. Although it is nothing next to Saltibarsci. Which is a cold beet soup that is usually served in the summer in Lithuania.”

“Any particular reason?”

“To signify the coming of summer to our lives. The brightness reminds us that light is coming back.”

“I like the symbolism of that. Does it get that warm to allow for cold soups?”

“It can do. But I think it is such a tradition now that it would be impossible to divorce it from the national consciousness.”

“You don’t often cook your home cuisine.” IT is not a statement and Hannibal is surprised that Will would know that.

“No.” Hannibal only answers and Will smiles. Behind Hannibal he can hear the rolling water of the soup coming to a boil so he turns down the flame.

“It doesn’t excite you in the way that other cuisines do. And it reminds you too much of home.”

“Yes.”

“Why then make something like that for me?”

“I wanted to show you a piece of comfort from home. Although Borscht may not be directly linked to Lithuania it is something I remember from my childhood. Even when I was living with my Uncle Robertas. And there is nothing like a Borscht to warm you.”

“Thank you.”

“I am just making you dinner as promised.”

“I know but you dug into something that could have been painful for you.”

“And you make me want to challenge myself.” He pauses. “I know you like the food I have cooked before but I know that you are less impressed by grandeur.”

“I like a bit of flair now and then. Especially from you as I know that it gives you joy.”

He presses another kiss to Will’s lips. “But I want to give you what you want and need.”

Will is smiling, Hannibal never wants to see that smile not grace Will’s face.

“Now. We have about 30 minutes before dinner is ready.”

Will hums. “I can think of a few things.”

“I’m sure you can.” Hannibal says with a smile and he kisses the smile off Will’s face. “But I want you to join me in the study. There is something I want to show you.”

He pouts but follows Hannibal out of the kitchen and into the study. He seems a little at loss of what to do standing in the middle of the room. Hannibal approaches the harpsichord in the corner of the room. He opens the lid of the instrument and sits down.

“Sit.” Hannibal says at Will’s look. Will surprises him by not sitting down in the seat near the fire and instead sits down next to Hannibal on the small bench. He is pressed against Will’s side. 

Hannibal lifts his hand and lets a note sound out into the room. Will is waiting with bated breath next to him. There is a charge in the air that both can feel. He lets the note ring out and then he places both hands on the keys.

He starts playing the composition he has been working on since the moment he had met Will. Hopes that it conveys every depth of his emotion that he still struggles to put into words. 

When the last note finishes Hannibal looks at Will. There are tears shining in his eyes and he grasps Hannibal’s chin in his hand and kisses him. There is so much passion in that kiss and Hannibal knows that he would do anything for Will.

“Thank you.” Will says after a moment, his chest heaving. 

“Nothing to be thankful for.” Hannibal says.

“I know but I wanted to say it anyway.”

Hannibal cannot help the smile on his own face. Will is singular in his life and he knows that there is nothing that he would do to harm Will now.

In that moment Will’s stomach rumbles. “I see we have a pressing need.”

“It’s your fault, you are feeding me far too well, and too often at that. I’m starting to get used to it.”

Hannibal smiles. “I think it is more that you don’t eat often enough when you are left to your own devices.”

Will scoffs. “I eat.”

“Yes. When your hunger is so strong that it bursts through everything else that you are doing.”

“You know me too well already.”

“Maybe. But mostly I feel as though I know the feeling well. Ignoring hunger by trying to distract oneself until it becomes too difficult.”

“That’s why you take so much care with making your food.” 

“Yes. I swore to myself that I would always enjoy everything I ate for the rest of my future.”

Will is looking at him with fond eyes and Hannibal kisses him again. 

***

Will doesn’t know how they make it from eating dinner to Hannibal’s bedroom. But he finds himself on his back luxuriating against Hannibal’s sheets. He moans as Hannibal brushes over his bare chest. His shirt is half way down his arms and they restrict his movement enough that he can’t reach up for Hannibal.

Hannibal presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat, just next to the bite he had left on Will’s neck. The wound throbs in time with his heart and Will knows he wants Hannibal’s teeth in him again. In fact he wants whatever Hannibal deigns to be appropriate inside of him. Wants to glut himself on Hannibal, just as Hannibal gluts himself on Will. 

Will had always felt like sex was an endless feedback loop, especially with his empathy but with Hannibal he feels alone in his head in the best way possible. And yet it feels like they feed off of each other in a way Will could never describe to anyone who hasn’t met their soulmate. It is wholly addictive and he doesn’t know how he can ever be without it.

A finger is drawn in a circle around his nipple and Will arches his chest into the touch. Hannibal is smiling but the look in his eyes is nothing short of hungry. Like he wants to devour Will whole. Will would let him, wants Hannibal to reach inside of him and take his pound of flesh from him. 

Teeth and lips trace their way down his chest and then scorching wet heat envelops one of his nipples. Will moans and Hannibal bites down and pulls so it stings slightly. He soothes it with his tongue and Will cannot believe the way he feels; like he is floating and the only thing holding him to the ground is Hannibal’s hands. 

Hannibal kisses his lips again, as though he can’t get enough of kissing Will. Will can’t say he minds because kissing Hannibal feels like he is being consumed while he consumes in turn. 

He sits up and Will can barely see Hannibal’s face, backlit as he is. Will looks up at the mirror above Hannibal’s bed. The expression on his face makes him look like something other. For a moment Will can see what Hannibal sees in him, Will thinks in that moment he looks almost like a painting that Hannibal might have hung in his own home or gone to visit in a gallery.

A hand wraps around his throat as though testing the force needed, Will arches into the touch. The edge of Hannibal’s thumb drags at the edge of the wound on his neck, it stings but Will cannot get enough of it. He wonders briefly if Hannibal is going to reopen the wound so that it scars. Will wants to wear Hannibal’s mark on him. 

The other hand wraps around his cock and pulls slightly. Will hisses at the slightly too dry friction. Hannibal has an odd look on his face as he gathers the moisture at the head of Will’s cock and slicks his hand. This time Hannibal’s hand on him makes Will moan and buck into the loose tunnel.

“I wonder.” Hannibal seems to say to himself as he leans over Will to the night table. The hand around Will’s neck disappears as Hannibal rummages in the drawer their. When Hannibal is back between his legs he is holding a glass vial in his hands.

Will’s pulse quickens, anticipation is filling him with a need for something that he can’t quite put into words. Hannibal seems to have tired of dragging anything out longer. And Will is thankful for it. 

Hannibal places the vial on Will’s heaving stomach, the cold of the vial is a shock that makes him laugh. Hannibal is smiling too so Will doesn’t feel foolish at his own reaction. The hand around his cock disappears and Will whines and then bites his lip.

“None of that. I want to hear every noise that I am able to pull from your body.”

Will releases his lip and Hannibal soothes the indents of his teeth with a thumb. Will lets his tongue dart out to taste Hannibal’s skin. Below his own pre-come is the taste of Hannibal’s skin that he cannot get enough of. A hint still of herbs he had used in the making of their meal.

“Stunning boy.” Hannibal hums and then in a flash he is unstopping the vial and dousing his hand in the lube inside. Will is half sure that Hannibal probably makes it himself or pays far too much money for it. Everything Hannibal uses is carefully chosen. He warms the substance in his hand and then a slick finger circles Will’s hole.

Even though he had expected it, it still surprises him. He has done this to himself before, but it is another matter to have someone else’s hand there. Will groans at Hannibal’s insistent pressure as he pushes his digit into Will. He tries desperately not to clench to calm his breathing enough for this.

The angle is so different when someone else is doing it that it feels brand new in that shocking way it had when Will had done this to himself the first time. It is better; undeniably better. Will is sure that, like everything Hannibal has shown him this far, he will become addicted to it and never be able to live without it. 

“Beautiful boy.” Hannibal whispers and presses a kiss against Will’s hip. He twists his finger searching for something. Will knows the instant when he has found his goal as Hannibal presses that impossibly long finger into his prostate. Will’s cock twitches in Hannibal’s grasp. 

“Fuck.” 

“We’re getting to that.”

Will knows that he is making too much noise, but Hannibal’s hands on him feels like he is an instrument for Hannibal to play like no one else can. Another finger pushes into him and he grunts at the sudden stretch. It burns, but the burn dissipates quickly leaving room only for searing pleasure that burns in a different way.

“I’m going to come.” Will warns Hannibal, he feels on the edge of something that he isn’t quite able to describe. Hannibal lets go of his cock and it lands on his stomach with an obscene noise. Will is breathing heavily as though he is slowly retreating from an edge.

Will covers his eyes with his hands. “This is embarrassing.”

“Not at all.” Hannibal seems to purr. “In fact it’s incredibly gratifying. I would have you in this moment always. Standing over the precipice of absolute pleasure.”

Will laughs, “and you’d be sure to give me a heart attack that way.”

“The French do call it  _ la petite mort _ .”

Will can only hum, the way Hannibal’s voice curls around French is arousing. It sounds like nothing he is used to.

Hannibal’s entire focus seems to be between Will’s legs and for a moment Will wants to close his legs as he feels exposed. But a much larger part of him is in control of his body as he spreads his legs wider. He wants Hannibal to see him as something worthy and if his body is the vehicle for that he doesn’t mind.

He is rewarded with another of Hannibal’s fingers. Will feels fuller than he ever has, and it is something that he realises he has been craving since the moment that Hannibal had laid hands on him. 

There is nothing between them but Will’s panted breaths and moans as Hannibal brushes over his prostate. Will is losing track of time, his entire world has shrunk to where Hannibal is touching him. 

The fingers slide out of him and after the fullness the emptiness is jarring. If Hannibal has already carved a space for himself in Will’s body then he should stay there. Will can hear Hannibal slicking his cock with the remaining lube on his hand. 

Hannibal takes hold of Will’s hips and maneuvers him around. His fingers are digging into Will’s skin and he moans at the feeling. He knows by the end of the evening he will be wearing bruises. Hannibal is after all a possessive man who wants to see Will decorated in things he has given Will. 

He thrusts forward and Will can feel the slide of Hannibal’s cock against his hole for a moment before it catches. He inhales deeply and releases the breath in the same instance as Hannibal pushes forward. It feels like he is being split apart by Hannibal. Nothing else matters but the space Hannibal is making for himself. 

Hannibal is relentless until Will can feel Hannibal’s hips against him. He is given three heartbeats to adjust before Hannibal pulls back. It’s like Will’s body is fighting Hannibal leaving his. It is so overwhelming in a way Will hadn’t expected. He feels like he can’t breathe properly. Hannibal thrusts back into him and it knocks the little air he had left out of his lungs. Hannibal hunches over Will and kisses Will. It is surprising to see Hannibal so disheveled. His usually neat hair is beginning to fall into his eyes. Will lifts his hand to push the hair back so he can see Hannibal’s eyes. 

The look there is overwhelming. And for the first time Will feels like he can see how Hannibal sees him properly for the first time. “Hannibal.” Will says into the space between their lips. “I love you.”

His declaration surprises Hannibal as much as it does Will. He knows that he is telling the truth, feels it deep in his bones. What he feels for Hannibal is overwhelming and feels as though it is going to crush him, but he knows that Hannibal is there to hold him up. To keep him safe.

“And I love you, remarkable boy.” Hannibal’s lips are on his, and Will can taste salt between their lips. He doesn’t know whether it is his or Hannibal’s tears. But he feels complete in a way that he had never imagined was possible before.

Hannibal sets a pace that is relentless. It makes the arousal coil in a pit in his stomach. Like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. He can hear Hannibal’s panting in his ears, his sight is blocked by Hannibal’s shoulder. It is like every sense is filled with Hannibal in the same way Hannibal fills him. 

He comes in a rush; a complete surprise and he can feel the way his body holds onto Hannibal like it can’t bear to part. Hannibal pushes forwards once, twice and then he is grinding his hips into Will’s, hard enough to bruise. Will is sure he can feel Hannibal’s cock twitch and then warmth seems to fill him. 

Hannibal lowers his weight on Will and Will can’t help it, he grabs hold of Hannibal’s chin to kiss him again. He can feel the way that Hannibal’s shoulders are shaking against him.

Will wraps his arms around Hannibal and holds him close. He can feel Hannibal’s sobs against him and he knows he is murmuring something to Hannibal to try and calm him. 

Eventually Hannibal’s breathing calms and carefully he sits up. He slips out of Will and he can feel Hannibal’s spend leak out of him. The fact that Hannibal has marked him from the inside makes him feel safe and loved.

He is sore all over, and he stretches his limbs slowly. 

“Shower?” Hannibal asks him, his voice is thick. Will sits up and kisses Hannibal gently.

“A shower sounds perfect. If you’ll join me?”

“Always.”

Will stands slowly as soon as Hannibal is no longer on top of him. He follows the man into the ensuite bathroom. The first thing Hannibal does is let the water run first, steam fills the room and Will knows that the hot water will do wonders on his aching muscles.

Hannibal pulls him into the shower and under the spray of the water. The pressure is high enough that he can feel it beating down on his shoulders and head. Hannibal is right at his back, and Will pulls him close. He is smiling now, and Will can only describe the look on Hannibal’s face as fond. It makes his heart feel so warm.

He begins washing Will’s hair with sure firm pressure that makes Will melt into the feeling. While Hannibal is rinsing Will’s hair he catches a glimpse of Hannibal’s left wrist and the words written there. Until now Will has not been able to see the words written there, Hannibal had revealed the lie and because that had been so early Will had not thought much more on it. Emblazoned on his left wrist are the words “I liked killing Hobbs.” Will doesn’t think much of it. His mind is still too hazy and filled with contentment at loving his soulmate.

***

Hannibal watches Will sleeping for long moments. He thinks it is possible that Will may have seen the words written on his left wrist and if that is the case then it could mean that Will will ask questions that Hannibal isn’t sure how he will answer at this moment.

He supposes it would be easier to wait and see whether Will had seen them, and what he makes of them. Hannibal hopes that because they are soulmates and therefore uniquely matched that Will can live with Hannibal’s other persona. But there is the distinct possibility that Will’s morality and love for his job will get in the way. The matter of Will’s brain inflammation also could throw a spanner into the works, but a call to Sutcliffe might give him an out.

Will mutters something in his sleep, he sounds pained. Hannibal pulls him close and holds him tight and Will settles with a smile on his face. This is perhaps the extent of what could be seen as the issues Will had warned him about. 

Hannibal brushes a curl out of Will’s eyes to look at his face more closely, wanting to memorise the exact slope of his bones for his memory palace and sketch pad. In the low glow of the outside streetlamps Hannibal sees that the shape of the words on his right wrist has changed.

His heart begins to beat faster, is it possible that Will is no longer his soulmate? That he had indeed seen the truth on Hannibal’s wrist and that had broken something in their bond? Carefully, Hannibal tiptoes into the bathroom, Will rolls into the space Hannibal had occupied and burrows into his pillow with a distressed little whimper. He wants nothing more to return to the bed and wrap himself back around Will.

Inside the bathroom he turns on the light. Inhaling and exhaling with his eyes closed Hannibal tries to plan for every eventuality. He looks at his right wrist and the words there. For a moment he can’t make out what they say, like he has forgotten how English works. But then he reads over the words “I want you to stop”. Like the lie there before the words are raised, and Hannibal traces them with the index finger of his other hand. With his heart in his throat Hannibal looks at his other wrist, hoping that the words on that wrist have not changed.

“I liked killing Hobbs” is still emblazoned on his left wrist and Hannibal feels like he can breathe easier again,the clutching weight gone from his chest. It means that Will is still his soulmate. But he doesn’t know why the lie has changed, he thinks perhaps there have been reports of this happening before but there is nothing that springs to mind for him. Hannibal fetches his tablet from his study and then returns to his bed.

Will wraps his arms around his middle as soon as Hannibal is settled. The light of the tablet doesn’t seem to bother him so Hannibal begins researching.

After an hour he could find only one reference in an obscure German journal. What he finds is a little illuminating, it seems that in some cases when soulmates profess their love for each other their lies change to reflect the additional things they overcome to be with one another. Hannibal is unable to find much else but he wonders if some of the books in his library may give him an answer to the question he is seeking. 

Relieved for the moment Hannibal sets his tablet down and settles back into bed, pulling Will until he is lying on his chest who seems to settle further at the action. Hannibal is tempted to look at Will’s right wrist to see if it has changed and to what it has changed but for once he wants Will to discover things without Hannibal’s manipulations. 

***

Will wakes up feeling pleasantly sore, stretching out in the luxurious sheets. Once again Hannibal isn’t in bed with him, but there is a note on his pillow for Will to read. With a smile Will reaches for the note and reads it. The note gives Will instructions to take as much time as needed as he has been called away to an emergency. He doesn’t think much of it; still feeling plenty content from the evening before. He gets out of the bed, wishing that he could spend all day luxuriating in the comfort of the bed. Stepping back into the bathroom to shower again, although they had showered the previous evening he had sweated a little during the night. His sleep disturbances feel so insignificant when he sleeps in the same bed as Hannibal, his nightmares seem to be manageable. 

Once showered he pulls on one of the robes Hannibal left in the bedroom for him. It is clearly one of Hannibal’s as it feels a little big in the shoulders on Will. He knows that if he asked Hannibal would immediately purchase one for him. There is something so alien to think that someone would go out of their way to make his life a little better just because they want to. 

Padding downstairs to the kitchen he finds a covered dish on one of the counters just as Hannibal had stated in his note. Will smiles at no one in particular, Hannibal cares for him in a way that feels complete and like he is trying to anticipate every single one of Will’s wants and needs before Will is even aware of them himself. It is an incredibly comforting sensation to know that. He is sure if it is anyone else he would feel suffocated, but with Hannibal it feels right. 

Beneath the cover is a bowl of yoghurt, granola and fruit. Will knows that it is highly likely that Hannibal had not only made the granola himself, Hannibal also made the yoghurt himself. Will settles in the chair in the kitchen to eat. There is something almost illicit of being in Hannibal’s kitchen without him. He knows too that Hannibal keeps the chair in the kitchen for someone to watch him cook. Will can picture it now; watching Hannibal creating a feast for him while he watches. He doesn’t know if he would be able to control himself and stay sitting in the chair as Hannibal’s watchful audience. That is one thing Will is certain of that Hannibal loves performing for an audience, his seemingly legendary dinner parties are proof of that.

Even though the breakfast Hannibal had left for him was relatively simple it was still delicious and he is almost grateful that he is alone as he isn’t sure that the noises he makes are suitable for polite company. 

Will washes the bowl in the sink and leaves it to dry in the rack next to the sink. He feels a little like he has disturbed something sacred by leaving a bowl just there. If he were more familiar with the kitchen he might have tidied the bowl and flatware away. But as he doesn’t know which of the gleaming drawers and cabinets house the mundanities of Hannibal’s kitchen he doesn’t.

Will finds himself in Hannibal’s study, still clothed only in the robe from Hannibal’s bedroom, he studies a few of the titles. There are a number of books that appear to be in languages that Will is unable to speak. The desk in the room draws his attention, like the one in Hannibal’s office it is meticulously tidied. The sketchbook lying in the center of the desk keeps catching his eye so ever so carefully he lifts the heavy leather cover.

The first sketch is surprisingly of him. Hannibal had seemingly decided to capture that moment in Hobbs’ kitchen all that time ago. Will almost doesn’t recognise himself, and he supposes that is because he had been in Hobbs’ mindframe at the time. Each blood spatter seemed to have been captured in extraordinary detail, and he looks almost like some vengeful spirit. 

With a careful touch he flicks through the pages. Each page is filled with different sketches of Will. He has to swallow around the lump of emotion he can’t quite explain that seems caught in his throat. Every single one of them is so detailed, so obvious that Hannibal had labored over these for hours. In the corner of each page is Hannibal’s signature and a date. He almost wants to brush his finger over the signature but he knows that would smudge the fine lines. Will realises that each page contains a sketch for each week that they have known each other. Again he wonders if Hannibal ever sleeps as it seems as though he is able to fit more into a single day than any mere mortal.

The sound of a door falling shut drags him out of his study of every single detail. He pored over them with intense hunger, greedy to see himself reproduced with such a loving hand. Will remembers then that they had uttered those words to each other the previous night. The evening had been so thick with the haze of pleasure that several details seem like they’re behind a veil. Somewhere in the back of his mind is the knowledge that there is something he should be remembering.

Will lets the sketchbook fall shut, feeling a little like he has been caught reading someone’s journal. With his face heated Will goes downstairs. Hannibal is still in the hallway of his house, carrying some paper bags filled with groceries. He smiles at Will when he sees him.

“My apologies Will. The emergency took longer than expected and it had me downtown so I thought that I would use the opportunity to stock up my fridge. Did you have a pleasant morning?”

Will nods and takes one of the bags off of Hannibal. Hannibal follows him into the kitchen and Will places the bag on the counter. “Help me unpack?” Hannibal asks him in a soft tone. It is like he knows that Will needs a little space to think.

Gratefully Will begins taking items out of the bag and arranging them. It seems that Hannibal had been to a farmer’s market, and suddenly Will wishes he had been there too. The thought of strolling through a busy market with Hannibal’s hand holding his to keep him safe makes him ache.

“I wish I’d come with you.” Will pauses, “to the market I mean. Not your emergency.”

Hannibal hums, “maybe next time. Did you do much to entertain yourself? I notice that you’ve eaten.”

“Yes, as everything you make it was delicious.” He hesitates. “I found the sketchbook in your study.” For a moment Hannibal is completely still and Will feels a little afraid. Scared that he has ruined everything. “You really loved me from the start, didn’t you?”

Hannibal exhales and turns to Will, catching Will’s chin in his hand to draw Will’s eyes to his. “Nothing could have compared to you, to your bristling indignation at being faced with a psychiatrist. And then when I knew you were mine. When you told the lie I had studied my entire life, that was it.”

Will can feel the prickle of tears in his eyes. “I wasted so much time.”

“No.” Hannibal is firm. “There is nothing that should be regretted. We each found out when we were supposed to.”

Will nods and bridges the small gap between them to press a kiss to Hannibal’s lips. He can feel Hannibal smile when he draws back. “Besides, I’d rather say we’ve made up any lost time.” Hannibal adds.

Will chuckles. He supposes they have moved faster than any relationship that Will had ever gone through. But it feels right, like they’re moving at exactly the right pace for them.

“Now. I’ll show you where everything goes.” 

Will nods, wiping at his cheek with his hand.

Hannibal walks him through where every item is supposed to go, Will tries to memorise everything. To ensure that he will be able to help Hannibal in his domain.

After everything is packed away Will checks his phone. He had left it with his coat the previous day. There is a text message from his neighbor informing him that the dogs were doing well. It is only when he is looking at the screen on his cell that he realises that it is Sunday. Although everything in him wants him to stay at Hannibal’s, he knows he has to go home that afternoon to prepare for a week of lectures and anything Jack decides to throw at him.

“How about I make lunch and then you can drive home?” Hannibal asks, it’s like he knows that their weekend of bliss has to end. “Even though I don’t want you to.”

Will hums. “I don’t want to leave either. But-” 

“But we both have lives that haven’t been joined together yet.”

“Yes. Perhaps that is something we should talk about.”

Hannibal nods. “You pack what you need to pack and I will make us something to eat.”

“I’d rather watch you.” Will is smiling. “I can be your appreciative audience.”

Hannibal looks at him with such hunger in his eyes that Will feels that familiar pulse of arousal. “Only if you behave.” Hannibal says after a moment, his voice thick with the same arousal Will feels.

He winks at Hannibal and settles in the chair in the kitchen, lounging back so that the robe spills open at his chest. Hannibal’s eyes are glued to him. Will is so tempted to draw apart the robe completely and languish on the chair. Tease Hannibal with flashes of his thighs. But Will also feels like Hannibal won’t take too kindly to distractions to cooking. Will also isn’t sure that he wants to get rid of this easy domesticity for a moment. 

When Hannibal seems sure that Will isn’t going to do anything he begins chopping ingredients while Will watches him closely. 

It almost surprises him how graceful Hannibal is, like a dancer performing an intricate choreography known only to him. Every action he takes seems exact and precise. Will is sure that Hannibal was a fantastic surgeon. It shows in the way he carves the meat and slices vegetables. Before his eyes it is like Hannibal is creating magic. 

***

As soon as Will arrives back at home he feels adrift in a way that he didn’t think was possible. It’s like his bond to Hannibal is pulling him away from Wolf Trap and back to Hannibal. He knows it is a conversation they will have to have; Will wants to make sure that Hannibal knows his dogs are non-negotiable for him. 

The first thing he does as soon as he has let the dogs greet him is start laundry. Although Hannibal had offered to get his clothes cleaned. Will had told him that he wanted something to distract him when he got home. 

Hannibal had kissed him at the door to his home, and Will had reluctantly torn himself away to get into his car. During the drive Will had to resist the urge to turn his car around and drive back. By the time he arrived at his home he had been covered in sweat.

Having the dogs sniff at him and beg for affection was helping to distract him somewhat. After a while he gets up and checks the kitchen. Alana had left a note underneath his, updating him on the dogs. When they had last been fed and been outside for a walk. 

Even though they had been out not a few hours ago he decides to change into his walking boots. They yip at him excitedly, pleased at both having Will home and the opportunity to go for a longer walk. 

He manages to get them all out of the door and down the path round the back of his house to the forest that backs on his house. They stream forward, excited to be spending this time with him, or at least he hopes that is the case. Winston stays by his side as soon as he has done his business. He keeps sniffing at Will like he doesn’t quite smell right. Will supposes that using Hannibal’s far too luxurious bath products may have altered how he smells to his dogs. He doesn’t know how to broach the conversation with Hannibal about his dogs. They are a non-negotiable part of his life and he would never give them up unless he absolutely had to. 

Shaking his head he picks up a stick from the ground and tosses it for Winston who chases after it. The dog still isn’t quite sure of playing games with him, but as he settles in Will’s home he is beginning to get more used to being able to play for the sake of playing. It makes Will feel hopeful for him. Winston has already proven himself to be an incredibly trainable and loyal dog. When Winston drops the stick in front of Will’s feet with an expectant look Will picks it up again to throw it further. 

As he throws it, he remembers something from the previous night. Hannibal washing his hair and when he had reached around his hair to rinse out his hair without getting soap into his eyes Will had seen his left wrist for the first time. 

“I liked killing Hobbs.” Will says the words aloud again for the first time since he had first uttered them in a hushed confession in Hannibal’s office. So Hannibal had not only heard the lie so early but also the truth. 

A cold shudder runs down his spine. If Hannibal had known all along that his soulmate was a killer, one that enjoyed the act then what did that say about Hannibal. He remembers what Hannibal had said after too, that killing must have felt good to God too, like he agreed with it. Did Hannibal consider himself above God or merely created in His image, including the wrath. Will whistles for his dogs, suddenly he doesn’t feel safe in the woods alone. He can’t quite explain why but he knows that he is hovering at the edge of something terrible. 

Once back inside his house he locks the door. The dogs look confused to have their walk cut short but they go to settle on their beds as soon as he directs them to. Will goes upstairs to one of the rooms he hardly uses except to store files. 

Jack had of course been glad for Will to take home files on the Ripper. He wanted Will thinking about him at all times. To be ready at a moment’s notice to capture him, or bring him down. He knows somewhere he had written down a preliminary profile. He doesn’t really want to look at it at that moment, wants instead to feel himself enclosed in blissful ignorance for a moment longer. Although even if Hannibal fits elements of the profile that he remembers that is still no evidence that Hannibal has anything to do with the Ripper murders. Will knows that Hannibal had suffered trauma in his childhood, even if the man hadn’t said as much, but it bled through some of his actions and thoughts. Perhaps then Hannibal is desensitized to violence and murder, instead he has been able to square it away as a biblical act.

Will finds what he is looking for, the preliminary profile with his additional notes. When he reaches for the file he catches a glimpse of his right wrist. It only catches his attention because the shape of the words there is different. He had been so used to the exact shape of the two words “I am” that seeing a different shape has him panicking for a moment. He drops the file as though it burns him to look more closely at his wrist. 

Inhaling deeply he focuses on the words there. At some point in the last day the words had changed without him noticing. Instead of the familiar phrase there is something new; “if you ask me to stop, I will.” Will exhales. Perhaps that means that Hannibal is no longer his soulmate, that he no longer considers Will as such. But when he glances at his left he finds the familiar truth. 

He has never heard of a case of soulmarks changing. But that doesn’t make it beyond the realm of possible, it frightens him that the words have changed. Because he doesn’t know what it means about either of them. Is Hannibal a potential danger to him now, because he is on the verge of knowing something?

He picks up the file and reads over the words he had written a few months ago for Jack. There written in black and white is:

“The Ripper is a man in his 40s to 50s with anatomical or medical training, as made evident with the way he is able to remove organs without damaging these. He is an organized killer who is methodical and meticulous in every detail. He has a tendency for the theatrical when it comes to his tableaus. Nothing he does is without brutality, but he has a strong sensibility for art, elegance and grace.” Next to his typed note is the words “he is eating them.” Will had added that note when he had begun investigating Hobbs.

Will feels sick, considering the amount of food he had eaten at Hannibal’s table. A part of him tries to tell him that it could just be a coincidence. After all, the profile could also match someone like Chilton, who had been a surgeon before he had made the switch to psychiatry. Will tries to calm his racing heart. 

The shrill ringing of his cell rips him out of his consideration. He answers the phone by snarling, “Will Graham.”

“Will.” Even knowing that there is a possibility that Hannibal is a killer doesn’t stop Will from relaxing as soon as he hears his voice.

“Hannibal.” His voice softens around Hannibal’s name. He both wants to exude a sense of normality, but he cannot help the love he feels for this man.

“I hope I’m not disturbing.”

“Only grading essays, so a welcome distraction.”

“You have eaten, haven’t you?”

“I will do, as soon as I’ve finished this particular essay. I’ve only got a page left.”

“Promise me that even if I’m not feeding you, that you’ll eat.”

“Of course. I’ll start something in just a moment.” 

“Do you need me to bring something over?”

Will wants to say yes, but he doesn’t think it’s a good idea. “You’ll be too much of a distraction. I promised these trainees that I would give them their grade by Monday.”

Hannibal gives a put-upon sigh. “I suppose in that case I ought to behave myself.”

“Oh?”

“I had thought to allude to the bruises I’m still wearing.”

Will can feel the arousal coil in his stomach. “Your bruises?”

Hannibal hums, and it is so low it rumbles through the speaker. 

“I will be wearing your scars for far longer than your bruises.”

“That you will.” Hannibal promises. And even though Will knows he shouldn’t it makes him feel loved and cared for. 

“Don’t make any promises you can’t keep.”

“I never break a promise.” Hannibal pauses. “Besides you wanted it to scar.”

“That I did.” 

“I suppose I must let you get back to grading papers so that you can eat.”

“I appreciate the brief interlude.”

“Good night Will. I hope you dream of me tonight.”

“I will. I can still feel you every time I move.”

“Good.”

Hannibal is the one to hang up the call. And Will feels so conflicted. He could plead ignorance, tidy the box away and chalk it up to one of those coincidences that just happen. It would be so easy. He loves Hannibal and is terrified of finding out something that would mean giving him up. Not now that he has finally found his soulmate. 

But the voice in his head that sometimes sounds like Jack tells him he has to at least find out if it’s true or not. Will knows that if there is even the possibility he won’t be able to rest. 

So he takes the box of files down to the living room and spreads them out on his coffee table. If there is a connection between Hannibal and any of the victims it won’t be obvious, no one who is a patient, or even a former patient. Hannibal, if he is the Ripper, would be far too careful for that. No, any connection would be fleeting at best. They still don’t know how he picks his victims. As there is no discernable pattern to them. 

The Ripper has killed someone of almost every ethnicity, age and gender. The youngest have always been adults, fledgling adults sure but always of legal majority. That tells him a little more, the Ripper won’t harm children. Will wonders, if Hannibal is the Ripper whether it comes from his loss of his sister. 

He tries to stop thinking about Hannibal, as he doesn’t want there to be any confirmation bias. Will has to look at this objectively and only look at what the evidence tells him. His main source of information is looking at the victims, because the Ripper has never left any trace of physical evidence at any scene. 

Will begins with the first known Ripper case, pulling the casefile close. Looking into the man in as much detail as possible. He knows that he has to go to the FBI and see if there is more information.

***

Hannibal decides that although his stock is beginning to empty, it is perhaps prudent that until Will is firmly by his side that the Ripper takes a little break. Abigail is beginning to make rumbles that could either help to push Will along the path or send him careening back towards Jack.

He receives regular texts from Will, letting him know that he has a case, that luckily doesn’t have him travelling across the country. Everything at the moment is fragile and unpredictable in a way that gives Hannibal pause. He feels as though the web he has been weaving is beginning to slip through his fingers. 

The matter of Will’s brain inflammation is beginning to weigh heavily on his mind. He no longer feels that enjoyment that he did at watching what Will would do next as his brain begins to send him deeper into a spiral.

Because Will is busy with the case Hannibal only sees him for their weekly conversation. Will is distracted and Hannibal surmises that he is beginning to lose time. Hannibal knows he has to monitor Will closely to ensure that he isn’t damaged irrevocably by the encephalitis. While it is interesting to see what horrors his brain conjures for him, he would hate to see Will not be himself. He loves the man, did so before the encephalitis, and Hannibal has always looked after what is his.

Abigail almost blows everything up. She had dug up Nicholas Boyle’s body. Hannibal can understand why she has done it, she is losing control of her own story by offering it to Freddie Lounds as the highest bidder, so she wants to exert some control. 

Hannibal knows, where she might not, that his body is void of any trace evidence that would suggest that Abigail killed him. By now anything that might have been there would have been subsumed by the earth. It is something that amuses Hannibal, that Abigail has used the discovery of Boyle’s body to try and rid herself of guilt and control it. But his burial means that there is nothing that could link her to him. 

He accompanies her to the morgue to identify his body. The weeks and months have ravaged his body, even in spite of the cold weather snap. Abigail is inconsolable as she looks down at the boy she killed. The elements have done their job to make the youth almost unrecognizable but Abigail confirms that it is him.

Jack uses the opportunity to pounce on Abigail, accusing and questioning her about the crime that she has committed. Even through her heaving sobs she denies her involvement without bringing Hannibal into it. He feels immensely proud of her for performing so well under pressure. Jack is dogged when he is questioning, and even the most steadfast individual would find it hard to weather his onslaught. Hannibal brings her back to the hospital, as the door of the morgue shuts behind them he can hear Alana begin to rage against Jack. He can’t help the burst of pride at his former protege. 

As soon as he has Abigail safely tucked away in her hospital he considers ringing Will. Even though it has been a day since he has spoken to the man in person it seems too long. But he texts him first, there is a possibility that he is in the middle of a lecture so calling him would make him feel embarrassed. 

Instead Hannibal decides that he wants to look into the changing of his soulmark. The books he owned had been of little help. The passing reference in the journal had thus far been the only clear reference he had found. There were a few passages in an old book of collected fairy tales that might have alluded to the possibility but it was difficult to know for certain whether this was the exact phenomena they were describing or a parable about treasuring your soulmate. 

One avenue of research that he hasn’t explored yet is speaking to Bedelia. He knows that she will be available as he is her only patient. He knows that she would drop him as a patient as soon as possible but she was perhaps the only person beside Will who saw him. But everytime she looks at him all he sees is fear, even as she tries to understand him. It is almost acrid, but she numbs it as much as she can; with a glass of wine and wit that teases at what Hannibal is. 

He arrives at the door of her house and she opens as soon as he knocks. There is a flash of terror in her eyes when she sees him standing there without an appointment.

“Good afternoon Hannibal. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I had a question and I felt you were the best person to answer that question.”

“Well I hope that I am able to. Do come in.”

She leads him into her study where they usually hold their therapy sessions. Although Hannibal has seen the rest of her house Bedelia tries to stop him from looking too closely.

He sits in his customary chair, she sits down but Hannibal can tell that she is looking at what would be the easiest way out of the room. Bedelia is unsure what his visit means for her and it is obvious in the precarious way she perches on her couch.

“Now, how can I help you?”

“I have a query, somewhat of a conundrum that I have been unable to find in my own research. But as I know you are somewhat of an expert on soulmarks I thought I should seek your advice.”

She flinches at the word “soulmark” and Hannibal lets the flicker of enjoyment at her discomfort show on his face. “I could be considered an expert. But I am afraid what I know is not necessarily backed by scientific methods. Merely anecdotal observations in my years of practice.”

“A long and illustrious career indeed. A shame for it to be cut short. You could always come out of retirement.”

“I have to admit I rather enjoy my retirement, although there appears to be one patient who has yet to accept my retirement.”

“Some people are tenacious.”

“What did you want to know about soulmarks?”

HE is glad that today she seems unwilling to engage in any metaphorical debate. His presence here has rattled her. “Do soulmarks ever change?”

“Yes.”

“And what would a reason be?”

“The most common is the death of your soulmate, a sudden death that is. Generally whatever quirk of the universe that has gifted us with soulmates decided that we would meet our soulmate at some point.”

“Predetermination then. But would the universe not be able to account for the possibility of a sudden death.”

“Not all chaos is quantifiable. Some of it creeps up on us, meaning we don’t see it coming. We are after all the whim of our chaotic cosmos.”

“What is another reason?”

“Sometimes, if the bonding of soulmates causes a fundamental shift in how the other has to see their life then it may cause the marks to change. Usually this happens after bonding, however that may occur.”

“What does bonding look like?”

“A consummation and a confession of love usually. That consummation may not be sexual of course, platonic soulmates exist. But a deeper intimacy is classed as a consummation just as much as sex is.”

“And is there a logic to what changes?”

“No. It could be either. But only one will change.”

“Thank you Bedelia you have been a great help.”

“If you’d allow me one question?” He nods his head and she continues, “why the sudden interest in soulmarks.”

“Mine has changed.”

“I ought to offer my congratulations that you have found your soulmate first.”

“Thank you.” 

“I won’t be so crass as to ask who it is.”

“You already know of him.”

Her eyes widen and then she inclines her head “of course. It makes sense. He is not the opposite to you but a complementary color.”

“That is my hope.” 

“Hannibal, these things take time. And the cosmos has already determined that you are perfectly suited.”

A clock chimes the hour and Hannibal knows he has to get back to his home as he wants to call Will before it is too late.

“Thank you Bedelia. I appreciate the information. You should consider publishing your observation. It may alleviate people’s concerns when it happens.”

“I will consider it.”

Hannibal exits her home and reaches his car. If his life is to fundamentally change he doesn’t know if he is ready for it. He doesn’t know how it could change, whether Will would find out and demand he give up his mantle as the Ripper or if he will be a willing participant to his crimes. He still cannot predict Will, even with having spent so much time with him.

When Hannibal arrives at his home a familiar Volvo is parked in the second space in the driveway. 

It seems as though his life is about to change earlier than he had expected. 

***

Will hears the quiet rumble of the Bentley approach him and his heart sinks. He breathes in slowly to try and calm himself down. When he gets out of his car Hannibal greets him with a smile and as soon as he is out of the car he approaches Will and presses a kiss against his lips. Will hates himself for the fact that he melts into the kiss. This is going to destroy him.

His gun is pressing into the small of his back even though he doesn’t know whether he would be able to pull the trigger if he had to. It could be that Hannibal allows him to leave, or that Hannibal is simply the superior predator and is able to overwhelm. The thought of ending as one of Hannibal’s tableaus shouldn’t thrill him as much as it does. Hannibal would elevate him, and hadn’t he always wanted Hannibal to consume him completely.

“Come in.” Hannibal says as he unlocks the door. “I’m afraid that I had not planned for your arrival. Although I am sure that I could rustle up something for us to eat.”

“Just a drink for now.”

Hannibal nods, he seems to be treading just as cautiously as Will is. As though he knows that Will knows.

He follows Hannibal into the study where he sits in one of the chaise lounges, Hannibal pours him a few fingers of whisky and then hands him the glass. He takes it with a muttered thanks, letting the glass warm in his hand. 

“This is unexpected. I thought the case was taking up your time?” 

Will chuckles, “it was simple really. An old killer who wanted to be caught because he couldn’t afford a retirement home. And he wanted to build a legacy. In the end the last piece of his totem pole was his own blood.”

“A different kind of legacy.”

“Indeed. It felt good to let him know that in trying to punish his mistress he had gotten rid of the only true legacy he had.”

“Thinking a lot about legacy?”

“What would your legacy be?”

“I have published articles. There will be people who remember me.”

Will chuckles again. “They’ll know you by another name too.”

“Oh?” Hannibal’s face is almost impassive but Will can tell there is a hint of something there.

“Yes. I suppose you’ve had many names over the years. Some that even I don’t know.” Will sips at the whisky. It is smooth in the way that the whisky he drinks at home never is. “It’s interesting how they come up with these names.”

“What names?”

“Names like the Minnesota Shrike. The copy-cat.” He inhales once before he continues. “The Chesapeake Ripper.”

“A rhetorical question if I have ever heard one.”

“I can see you now.”

“See me how?”

“As the one that has been hunted for years.”

“What ever could have given you that impression?”

Will feels angry for a second and almost snarls, “don’t play coy with me.”

Hannibal doesn’t say anything, looking at him with a calculating look.

“You were very good. Could have fooled anyone, it took me ages to find a link.”

“A link?”

“Yes. you’re ever so clever. Never killing anyone you have a direct connection to. Is that how Miriam Lass found you?”

“Jack told you about Miriam Lass.”

“He didn’t have to, the FBI has cavernous walls that echo certain things.” He draws a finger down the bead of condensation of his glass. “And a trainee going missing after unofficially looking for the Ripper that is a whisper that echoes for years.”

“You share a lot of similarities with her.”

“It’s why Jack even had me talk to you. He wanted to make sure I was safe, that I wouldn’t hide my work so if the inevitable happens he might have an inkling where I was.”

“But you haven’t told him you’re here tonight.”

“No.” 

Hannibal stands and Will for a moment wonders how Hannibal would do it. Whether he would snap his neck now, unable to torture him in the same way he had everyone else. The man loves him, that much he knows certain, and Will is certain that Hannibal is protective over things that are his. He almost wants it to hurt, wants Hannibal to make him into something greater than. A final fuck-you to Jack. In the back of his mind there is a possibility that Hannibal could follow him. A way to make sure that they remain intertwined even beyond death.

“You spoke of a connection.”

“Yes.” He takes another sip of the amber liquid. “It was a chance finding. But you made a mistake, one that most would have discounted. After all as an ER surgeon you would have operated on hundreds if not thousands. Ormstead was operated by you, even if another doctor did the follow up. A ruptured appendix if I remember correctly.” 

Hannibal is silent next to him, the lines of his body are tense, coiled and waiting for action.

“What was Ormstead’s crime?”

“You know the things I abhor.”

Realisation dawns on Will. “He was rude to you.”

Hannibal nods and this time he looks proud.

“But I’m rude and abrasive to you.” Will considers him. “But I fascinated you more. Than I lied to you and I was yours.”

“Yes.”

“And in their rudeness they languish in filth just like swine.”

“Yes.”

“Is it a compulsion?”

“No. I have gone many years without.”

“But you don’t always kill under the Ripper mantle.” 

“Not always. I can wait though. I killed Ormstead seven years after I met him.”

Will finishes his drink and passes the glass back to Hannibal. His gun is still pressing into his back. Trapped between the cushion and his back, he would never be able to reach it in time if Hannibal chose to smash the glass over his head.

“If you ask me to stop, I will.” Will’s wrist flashes heat at him, and he doesn’t need to look at it to know that Hannibal has lied to him.

“I want you to stop.”

Hannibal looks at him and a smile creeps over his face. “Liar.”

Will’s heart rabbits in his chest. He feels sick to his stomach. “You deceived me too.”

“So we are at somewhat of an impasse.”

Will follows the urge to let his head drop between his knees. His head is pounding and he fumbles for the pill bottle in his pocket. Swallowing two pills in this position is awkward but he manages it.

It takes him a while that a warm hand is rubbing soothing circles on his back. He arches into the touch. He thinks he never will be able to ignore the way Hannibal’s touch makes him feel. The way it sets every nerve singing.

“A compromise perhaps.”

Hannibal’s hand stops in its tracks and Will sits up. Head rushing as he focuses on Hannibal. “You need an audience. I can be your audience.”

Hannibal is grabbing his chin and pulling him close before Will can even react. But instead of a strike that he half expects Hannibal is kissing him. Will can’t help the whimper of relief that is swallowed up eagerly by Hannibal.

Ever so gently Will pushes Hannibal back. “But there has to be some ground rules.”

“A negotiation of terms then.”

“You serve me normal meat. I know that this isn’t a compulsion for you and that you could stop at any point. But I don’t want to cage you too much.”

Hannibal is watching him with such hunger in his eyes, and Will wants to be consumed by him whole. Can feel the edges of the bite wound on his neck throb with the beating of his heart.

“I get to veto.”

“You would let me choose?”

“To an extent.” Will sighs slightly. “But you will let me veto.”

“You will watch me.”

“Every second.”

Hannibal growls as he pushes Will back against the cushions of the chaise. His weight settles on top of Will as he kisses the man. Will struggles against him until Hannibal draws his hand tight around his wrists. The bones grinding in his grip. Will arches upwards against the solid heat of Hannibal. 

“Stay.” Hannibal growls against his lips while he places Will’s hands above his head. Will grips the armrest, he knows that once Hannibal begins to use those hands of his he will want to touch Hannibal in turn. 

His shirt is ripped open, buttons pinging into the room. He mourns the loss of that particular shirt, it was so old that it was soft to wear. Will knows that if he asks then Hannibal would replace it immediately, and he isn’t sure whether Hannibal isn’t trying to destroy his wardrobe so he can replace it piece by piece. 

Hannibal thumbs over his nipples for a moment. Will glances up into his eyes and the hunger and love he sees in his eyes are overwhelming. 

Will’s field of vision blurs, and Hannibal brushes a thumb over his cheek smearing wetness there. He doesn’t know if it is his or Hannibal’s. 

An image of a black antlered figure is all he can see when he blinks away the tears in his eyes. Then all he sees is black.

***

Will tenses beneath him, all his limbs locking into place. Hannibal sits up, careful to avoid putting further weight onto Will. In front of him Will’s roll into the back of his head. It seems that the encephalitis has progressed further than he had thought. He doesn’t have anything that could help Will in the house so he phones an ambulance.

Hannibal had hoped that he would have had more time to slowly introduce the idea of a neurological issue being at fault for his symptoms. But it seems that Will’s body had other ideas. In some way he is glad his hand has been forced because Will’s trust is a fragile thing, and for now he can still feign innocence. After all who would believe that he had smelt it on Will’s skin. That fevered sweetness that had clung to him like a shroud.

He is timing the seizure and when it hits the two minute mark Hannibal begins to worry. He knows that there is a possibility that Will could be harmed by this seizure. He rushes to his desk and slides open of the drawers, tucked away in a secret compartment is a vial. He draws a few milliliters of the fluid. He can hear the way air is being forced in and out of Will’s body through the convulsions that wrack his body. 

Back at Will’s side he pulls Will’s sleeve up until he can see the veins in Will’s arms. Luckily Will’s veins are pronounced enough that he can find them easily. If the situation wasn’t so serious he would consider studying them more closely. Instead he pushes the needle through Will’s skin and into the vein. Depressing the plunger until the syringe is empty. Massaging at the area as soon as he discards the syringe. 

It takes a few more minutes for Will’s muscle to begin to uncramp, his breathing slowing slightly. There is a rapid knock on his door and Hannibal strides towards it. There are two EMTs standing there and Hannibal ushers them to his study. Luckily the seizure appears to be easing with the injection Hannibal had given.

“Patient presented with a seizure lasting for longer than five minutes. No history of epileptic or other types of seizures. He was administered a 1mg dosage of Versed injection.”

“That’s good.” The EMT says as he approaches Will and shines a light into his eyes. “Pupils are slightly enlarged but do react a little to light.” 

The other EMT undoes the buckles on the stretcher. “Take him with us and get him scanned?”

“I think that’s the most prudent thing to do. The muscles are beginning to relax so I think we’ll be able to move him easily.”

Hannibal helps them place Will on the stretcher, strapping him down so he doesn’t fall out. He doesn’t even ask for permission just follows them into the back of the ambulance.

“He’s lucky he had you.” The EMT who is staying in the back of the ambulance with them says after a moment. She keeps checking Will to make sure he doesn’t come to any further harm. “Not many know what to do with Versed.”

“I was an ER surgeon before I moved into psychiatry.”

“Good thing you had Versed on hand.”

“One of the methods I employ is EMDR, which can trigger seizures in some patients. Of course the technique is only used if they do not have a history of seizures.”

“I noticed he feels a little warm, has Mr-”

“Graham.”

“Right. Has Mr Graham told you of any fevers, aches or even a rash.”

“He has had some sleep related symptoms but nothing that would suggest meningitis.”

“Okay. I am not a doctor so I don’t know what they will look for, but let’s hope that it’s a scan first.”

“I will make sure of it.”

***

Will wakes to beeping, he tries to lift his arm to shut off his alarm. Something heavy is on his arm and he thinks for a moment that Winston has clambered onto the bed even though he knows he shouldn’t. He notices that the weight on him isn’t another creature but the heaviness of his own limbs. He opens his eyes and the light makes him dizzy. 

“Hello Will.” Hannibal’s familiar voice makes him feel a little calmer. So he had just fallen asleep in Hannibal’s bed after they had talked. The only thing that shakes him is that he can’t remember much past Hannibal lunging for him. “You’re in hospital.”

“Hospital?” Will’s voice is hoarse and Hannibal places a straw to his lips. He drinks down the cool liquid in greedy gulps.

“Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.” Hannibal cautions, but there appears to be a sense of mirth in his voice.

“Hannibal why am I in the hospital?”

“You had a seizure. Quite a severe one at that. I had to call an ambulance.” Will turns his head to look at the man. He looks haggard in a way Will never would have expected, like he has been sitting at Will’s bedside for days.

“How long?”

“You’ve been out for about 24 hours.”

“Do they know why?”

“I can call the doctor if you prefer?”

“No. I want you to tell me.”

“You have encephalitis.”

“A brain inflammation?”

“Yes. It looks like it is anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis.”

“What does it mean?”

“It seems that you had a small growth in your abdomen. A teratoma.”

“Is it cancerous?”

“No, they are usually benign, and in your case it was too. It is a tumor that forms with different tissues, including hair, skin and bone.”

Will has to laugh, it sounds so bizarre that he had that growth. “And it caused encephalitis?”

“Most likely your body tried to get rid of the growth and ended up attacking itself instead.of the tumor.”

Will’s laugh becomes almost hysterical. “Figures that my body can’t even do that right.”

“It does explain some of the symptoms you have been describing though.”

“For example?”

“The hallucinations, sleepwalking and frequent headaches. Will, I am sorry I should have realised that this was more serious than just stress.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t ever tell you the full extent of them.” Will sighs. “Like the day I kissed Alana I had opened up my chimney thinking an animal was stuck in there.”

“You did hide that from me.”

“I didn’t think much of it, all I could think about was the kiss and the way it hadn’t felt right.”

Hannibal nods, he stands and presses a kiss to Will’s brow, his lips feel wonderfully cool against his brow. “I think I should inform the neurologist that you have woken up. He can explain the treatment plan to you.”

Will hums, he is starting to feel tired again. He barely registers the door opening and then closing again. 

“Mr Graham.” A strange voice wakes him up again and he blinks his eyes open. “Good evening Mr Graham. I am Dr Sutcliffe. A neurologist.”

“Good evening.”

“Hannibal has asked me to explain the treatment procedure with you.”

Will nods, “can I sit up?”

“Yes mylimas. But you may be in some pain due to surgery.”

“No pain at the moment.” Will says with a grin, he knows that he has been given some strong painkillers because of the heaviness of his limbs. 

Hannibal helps him sit up, pillows arranged behind his back to support Will. Will can’t help it; he presses a clumsy kiss against Hannibal’s cheek to show his gratitude. Hannibal gives him a conspiratorial wink before pressing a kiss against his forehead.

Dr Sutcliffe clears his throat and Will looks at him, he had forgotten that the other man was in the room. “If you like we can discuss your treatment plan now.”

“Please.”

“The first step has been removal of the tumor that had been the cause of the antibodies. Since surgery we have started a regimen of immunotherapy and now that you are awake we will start with plasmapheresis.”

“Plasmapheresis is the process of drawing out your blood, separating it into its component parts, cleaning the plasma and then returning it to you.”

“Like dialysis?”

“Yes. You will be given donated plasma to replace yours.”

“Right. How long will recovery take?”

“We don’t know. It seems in some cases that with aggressive treatment about 50% of patients see an improvement within four weeks.”

“So I’m in for the long haul.”

“Unfortunately. It is likely that you will recover quicker than most patients because the cause of your encephalitis was a tumor. But it will take a long time.”

Sutcliffe looks to Hannibal and then walks out of the room.

Will can feel tears in the corner of his eyes. “You should just go. I don’t want to burden you.”

Hannibal shakes his head, it is the first time that Will has seen actual outrage on his face. “Not now that I’ve finally found you.”

Tears spill down his cheeks but Hannibal is there and catches each of them with his lips. “I told you Will, I love you.”

“I love you.” Will murmurs before kissing the salt from Hannibal’s lips. 

“Besides, you said you would be my audience.”

Will smiles, he does remember their conversation and the agreement they had made in Hannibal’s study. “I did say that. Might not be quite as attentive as I would be at first.”

“The Ripper can take a break, he has more important things to do.”

“What about Jack?”

“I told him you were gravely ill and you would not be contacting him for at least six months.”

“You think it will take that long?”

“Will your brain was boiling itself, first we need to get rid of the antibodies that are attacking your brain, and then we have to give you enough time to heal.”

“Maybe I should retire, would be nicer to do this somewhere warm.”

“That can be arranged. As soon as you no longer need first-line immunotherapy I can find somewhere for us.”

“The dogs?”

“Will come with us, if they have to be quarantined somewhere we will sort it out.”

“Hannibal this will cost you too much.”

“Having you by my side is worth every price.”

***

Hannibal steps out into the sun, Zoe at his heels following him like a second shadow. That had been surprising when they had joined their lives together, that Zoe with her underbite would become his favorite of Will’s pack. In the evenings she loved sitting on his lap or pressed against his side as he read, sketched or just talked to Will.

He had never considered himself to be a man that would allow dogs on the furniture. But now he doesn’t mind so much. His life now feels so much freer than it ever has. He passes the glass to Will who is lounging beneath the shade of an umbrella by their pool. The sun has done him good, his skin turning golden and his eyes sparkling as he looks at Hannibal over his sunglasses.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Hannibal purrs Will shivers at the tone.

“Have you given much more thought about your next project.”

“There is one I’ve had my eye on.”

“Good. I’m starting to feel a little restless.”

“Me too, mylimas, me too.”

“It’s like this all consuming itch. And I want you to be able to scratch that itch.”

He is more selective now, with Will’s recuperation being ongoing he doesn’t want to risk that they have to move suddenly. Preferring instead to leave long gaps. It doesn’t prevent that call for violence he feels deep in his body like a siren call. Since Will has allowed and acknowledged that part of him the same beast lives in his chest and it calls out for blood.

“I know.” Hannibal pauses. “But soon. Everything is ready.”

Will hums and lifts his face up for a kiss that Hannibal happily gives. Will is almost back to full health, but the last few months have been exhausting for him. The scariest part had been when the hallucinations had been stronger again, but Dr Sutcliffe had said it was normal for the symptoms to reappear again as Will progressed through his recovery.

If Dr Sutcliffe hadn’t been able to save Will’s life he might have been tempted to make a tableau out of him. He had forgotten how rude the man was, but Will’s health had been front and center in his thoughts, and so he had stayed his hand.

Now though, it is his first hunt since Will’s disease had scuppered his plans. Excitement buzzing in his skull. Will seems on edge too, like he cannot wait to see Hannibal’s brutality first hand. Hannibal feels so fortunate every day that he has found Will. 

He settles on the lounger next to Will, letting their legs intertwine. Will settles on his chest and Hannibal lets his eyes drift close.

***

Will can feel the excitement bubble low in his stomach even though he is exhausted. Hannibal had told him to get ready that evening, and to wait in the kitchen for him. Will had happily obliged and now he is sitting at the island in the kitchen with a glass of iced tea. The summer in their villa was hot and every one of their windows are open to try and tease a breeze through their house. Originally Hannibal had whisked him to Florence, so that they had closer access to hospitals but as Will got stronger they had moved out of the city and into the countryside.

He prefers it this way, knowing that no one is around for miles, just how it had been in Wolf Trap, he misses his little ship sometimes. But Hannibal keeps him safe in a different way, and he has no further need for a reminder except Hannibal’s comforting warmth. Hannibal is different here too, less rigid. He no longer has to perform for the Baltimore elite. In some ways it makes him seem almost supernatural, because his carefully crafted person suit is no longer necessary every single day.

In the end they had only taken 3 dogs; Zoe, Buster and Winston. The others had found good homes, Will had insisted on that. The families send him regular updates of his missing pack member so that the sting of losing them isn’t so great. Winston is currently curled up under the stool beneath his feet. Since his quarantine he had been by Will’s side, keeping a close eye on him. 

The front door opens and Will can hear rapid Italian as Hannibal escorts their guest to the kitchen.

“Buona notte.” Will greets the man as soon as he spies them.

“Signor Graham.” The man beams at Will. “this is a surprise.”

“I’m sure my husband has mentioned me?”

The same disgust Will had seen earlier flashes over the man’s features. But he doesn’t strike, he must know he is in the room with two higher predators. 

“In passing. Though he did not mention you had married.”

Will smiles, it’s a lie of course. “A brief sojourn to The Netherlands.”

The man hums, his anger and attention directed towards Will so he doesn’t notice Hannibal stepping up behind him and sinking a syringe into his neck. The man slumps forward. Will’s eyes on Hannibal the entire time.

“Shall we, my love?”

Will nods and gets out of his seat and helps Hannibal by carrying the man’s possessions down into the cellar. Just beyond the wine cellar is a door that is hidden from view, leading to a room that Hannibal has been working on during the months they have been in this house. Will had yet to see it from the inside, and he had never seen more than pictures of Hannibal’s basement in Baltimore. It is impressive and has more than enough room for Hannibal to do what he needs to do. 

Hannibal lays the man down on a metal table. He looks at Will when he hears him sit on the chair they had added in the center of the far wall. It had been the best way to enact their compromise. 

Will watches Hannibal the entire time as he binds the man to the table and then wakes him up in increments. The man’s anger is gone now and only fear remains. He pleads for his life the entire time, or at least he does until Hannibal rips out his tongue. Blood streaming out from his mouth until it’s clear that he is dead. Will’s heart is beating hard in his chest, but it isn’t fear like he had expected. Seeing Hannibal in action is a beautiful sight to behold and all Will wants is to be working alongside him. He gets out of his chair, his legs a little unsteady. He wraps his arms around Hannibal’s back and whispers “show me how to do it” into his neck.

Hannibal spins around in his arms and kisses Will, smearing blood across his chin when he cups Will’s chin to pull him closer. “You should always be covered in blood. It suits you.”

“It would cause quite an uproar because you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of me.”

Hannibal smiles and presses a kiss to his lips. “No I wouldn’t.”

“Do we need to do anything down here or can it wait?”

Hannibal chuckles. “I hadn’t planned on taking cuts from this one. His diet leaves little to be desired. But I can tell you are getting impatient.”

Will laughs too, his cock is pressed against Hannibal’s thigh and he is so hard already even though Hannibal has done little to encourage it. 

Hannibal lifts one of Will’s legs to his waist and Will catches on quickly; wrapping the other around Hannibal’s waist too until he is held securely in Hannibal’s arms. Hannibal’s hands are on his ass and squeeze tight. Will ruts forward, this time he can feel Hannibal’s answering hardness against him and he groans at the feeling. Will feels so fortunate that he gets to have this for the rest of his life.

Somehow they make it to their bedroom and Hannibal sets him down on the bed gently. Will knows that Hannibal wants to make sure that Will is okay, so sometimes he is treated with kid gloves, but it isn’t what he wants in that moment. He wants Hannibal’s possessive love, that leaves him bruised and sated. 

Hannibal prowls over him and strips Will quickly until he is bare beneath him. His eyes zero on the fading edges of the bite on Will’s next and his eyes go black with hunger. It seems that Hannibal too wants to test his claws in Will. Will reaches his hands up and pulls Hannibal down to him, happy to let the blood on his clothes smear against his skin.

“I want you to forget that I am in recovery tonight.”

Hannibal’s mouth tightens for a moment. “I don’t want to overexert you.”

“I don’t care. I want you, all of you. Besides, I can take it.” Hannibal doesn’t seem entirely convinced but the expression on his face makes him think that Will is close to getting what he wants. “I want you to make me yours completely, until I forget anything that isn’t you.”

It’s like the dam breaks because Hannibal crushes him to the bed. His mouth on Will’s. He kisses Will like he is trying to remind him of exactly who he is. Will moans at the rough treatment, he has craved it so much. He hopes he is able to answer in kind with all of his love laid bare for Hannibal to devour. 

He whines when Hannibal spreads his legs and makes more room for himself. He still hasn’t taken off any of his clothes and Will likes the way it chafes against his sensitive skin. Hannibal mouths down his throat, teeth teasing at the edges of the scar on his neck.

“Please Hannibal.” He moans as a hot tongue brushes over the marks. Teeth replace his tongue and Will can feel the skin split beneath Hannibal’s teeth. It feels like a barrier has been broken between them, tears spill hot from Will’s eyes. Hannibal thumbs them away and then licks his thumb clean and groans. There is so little of Will that Hannibal hasn’t consumed in one way or another. 

His whole world shifts as Hannibal flips him onto his front and onto his hands and knees. Will sinks his head and chest down onto the bed, spreading his knees wide, arching his back.

“Good boy.” Hannibal says with a rumble and Will feels flushed with the way the praise makes him feel. Hannibal’s weight on his back makes him feel safe and protected in a way that no other person has before. 

Hannibal moves down his body with sucking bites that Will knows will bruise. His hands are firm on Will’s ass as he pushes Will’s back to arch further down. Every bit of fabric rubbing against his heated skin feels like both too much and not enough.

His cheeks are spread and there is a moment where he feels far too exposed before Hannibal’s mouth is on him. Will squirms under Hannibal’s skilled tongue, canting his hips to allow him more access. He presses back into the new sensation. It has been too long since Hannibal has touched him so intimately and Will cannot get enough of it.

A finger is pushed inside him along with Hannibal’s tongue and of course Hannibal aims for his prostate almost immediately. “Don’t.” Will murmurs, his face pressed against the sheets. “I’ll come too soon and I want to come on your cock.”

Hannibal sucks at his sensitive rim but adjust his finger so it isn’t aimed exactly at the spot that has him seeing stars. He stretches Will quickly. Will knows that normally Hannibal would like nothing more than to devour Will for hours, and if he were in a different frame of mind he would. But both are impatient to be joined again. 

He can hear Hannibal’s zipper being lowered, almost deafening over the sounds of his own panting and moans. He feels Hannibal spit onto his finger, hears him stroke his cock a few times and then he can feel Hannibal’s cockhead catching at his rim before he pushes in.

Will groans into the sheets. He feels like he is being split apart by Hannibal. He pushes forward into Will relentlessly until his hips are resting against Will’s ass. It hurts but that makes it perfect. Because he wants this to hurt, as a reminder of the monster that is solely his. Hannibal gives him two heartbeats before he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into Will.

“Fuck.” Will moans as Hannibal sets a dizzying pace that leaves Will breathless; Hannibal fucking the breath out of him. Will can feel the arousal beginning to take over his body and he feels mindless as he meets everyone of Hannibal’s jarring thrusts. His knees slipping against the sheets trying to widen his stance to give Hannibal more room to bring him closer and closer to the edge.

He moves his hand back so he can hold onto Hannibal because he needs to be able to hold on to Hannibal. Hannibal twines their fingers together and Will almost sobs in relief. This is real, and they’re here together. The teeth of Hannibal’s zipper nip at his thighs and he knows that he will be wearing new bruises when this is all over. 

His orgasm hits him like a freight train, suddenly and with enough force to leave him breathless. He hears Hannibal grunt as Will clenches around him and then Hannibal is spilling deep inside him. Will collapses onto the bed with Hannibal still inside him.

He can feel the gathering tears in his eyes bubble over and begin to spill down his cheeks. Hannibal rubs soothing circles on his back and then wraps an arm around Will’s chest to hold him still. Hannibal moves them until they are lying on their sides. Hannibal pressing kisses against Will’s neck while he holds him.

“I never thought I would have this.” Will says as soon as he catches his breath. His left arm is resting over Hannibal’s left, their marks almost touching.

“Me either.” Hannibal is smiling. “And now that I do I never want to let you go.”

“I don’t want you too either.”


End file.
